The Swallow and the Fox
by Gvalchca
Summary: Before she was Lady of Time and Space, Ciri was bound to the world of the Aen Elle by Avallac'h. What events transpired to transform Avallac'h from Ciri's captor into her protector, mentor, and potentially lover? This story takes place following the book "Lady of the Lake" and continues into the events of Witcher 3. Ciri/Avallac'h. Rated M just in case for later chapters.
1. Prologue

_WARNING: This is my first fanfic (first creatively written anything, really) and it shows. Read at your own risk. Any criticism or advice is welcome._

* * *

 **PROLOGUE  
**

Avallac'h held the small phial up to the light and examined it inquisitively, rolling it from side to side between his thumb and forefinger. Although empty, its illuminated facets betrayed hints of the bottle's former contents with brief flashes of green light. The aroma of damiana flowers permeating from the flask was as overpowering as it was unmistakable to the elven sage. Damiana, when mixed with absenta, produced a green decoction with the properties of a powerful aphrodisiac.

He scoffed inwardly at his observations as he pocketed the phial. _'Auberon Muircetach, King of the Alders, struck down by a love potion...'_ The mortification would be palpable for any Aen Elle elf, but Avallac'h's cerulean eyes were serene and calm. The angled features of his face were at rest and devoid of any expression.

The potion had been prepared with inordinate potency seemingly beyond its usual purpose, but the implications of regicide were of little concern to Avallac'h and easily pushed from his mind. The fulfillment of Ithlinne's Prophecy was all that mattered to the erudite elf. The salvation of the Aen Elle, Aen Seidhe, and even the Dh'oine would be born of Hen Ichaer, the Elder Blood; the blood of Lara Dorren. The only fact of relevance was that the King of the Alders was now dead, along with any hope Avallac'h had of using him to reclaim the purity of the bloodline. It was an unnecessary waste.

The clattering of armor resounded through the halls, beckoning Avallac'h away from his thoughts and towards the entryway of the chamber. The lancet doors swung open as the commander of the Dearg Ruadhri entered the royal apartment of the king. His obsidian armor was soaked through and sloshing water with every footfall.

"Commander Eredin," Avallac'h addressed with the arching of his brow. "I was not aware that the hydromancers had scheduled a downpour for today..."

The commander disregarded the elven sage as he brushed past, stopping at the foot of the bed where his fallen king now rested in repose. The body had been unceremoniously covered with a shroud and the crown of the Alders was resting upon it.

"You're unaware of many things," Eredin spat, "for being a Knowing One, Aen Saevherne."

Eredin removed his horned helmet and tossed it to the floor, water spilling out like a kicked bucket onto the embroidered carpets. He seated himself at a nearby table where a game of chess had once played out, sweeping the forgotten pieces aside in his frustration. Layers of wet ebony hair framed his face and darkened the indignation in his hawkish emerald eyes.

"Your selfish little dh'oine has betrayed your covenant and our hospitality. She's murdered our king in his bed and stolen out into the night. I lost her on the river."

"Our king was poisoned," Avallac'h stated plainly as he placed the phial on the table. "It may be the tool of women, but I do not believe it to be the one favored by this woman."

Eredin's eyes narrowed as he glared down at the phial, shadow seeming to flit across his face briefly. Avallac'h dismissed it.

"I trust," Avallac'h continued, "that your Dearg Ruadhri can retrieve a dh'oine lost in the unfamiliarity of our world. That is, if the _Geas Garadh_ does not return her to us first."

"The little swallow has flown from your magical cage, across the chasms of time and space. My riders are your only hope of seeing her returned to us now."

" _Hen Ichaer_..."

"Yes, your precious Elder Blood," Eredin confirmed sardonically as his arms crossed his chest. "It has awoken in the little mutant. How does the Dh'oine idiom go? 'They just grow up so fast. If you blink, they're gone.'"

"Lara's blood," Avallac'h paused to correct himself, "The Elder Blood. It's awakening is an unforeseen complication. But the power is unpredictable, involuntary. She will not be able to control it."

"Control it? She commands it. Even now, as my riders pursue her, she leaps from sphere to sphere as if they were rocks on a stream."

Avallac'h's brows knit together in contemplation. Eredin smirked as the sage processed this new information.

"Recapturing the swallow is another matter," Eredin changed the subject. "What of our plans for the Elder Blood now, without Auberon?"

"The gene which Zireael carries has mutated through Lara Dorren's descendants in unpredictable ways for centuries. Auberon was Lara Dorren's father and the most ideal sire to reclaim the purity of the bloodline. His loss is incalculable."

Avallac'h trailed off as his thoughts drifted back to the information that Eredin had imparted to him earlier. He looked conflicted for a moment, but collected himself before continuing on to his conclusion.

"The purity of the bloodline is now unsalvageable and forever lost to us. But perhaps, with time-"

"Time!" Eredin roared as his palms slammed down upon the table, sending ebony and ivory chess pieces clattering to the floor. "You would ring Auberon's death knell for us all! The White Frost is at our steps, Aen Saevherne. Our world dies around us. Enough time has already been wasted on your aphorisms, your prophecies."

Avallac'h was silent. He knew that as unproductive as Eredin's tirades were, it was dangerous to interrupt them.

"Where was fate when Lara Dorren betrayed her people for Cregennan of Lod? Where was destiny when the Elder blood was stolen from us this night?"

Avallac'h did not answer.

"Lara Dorren's betrayal continues to curse us through you! If not for your infatuation with Lara, you would have never coddled the little dh'oine halfbreed. I'm no Aen Saevherne-"

"No, you are not," Avallac'h stated flatly.

"I'm no Aen Saevherne," Eredin repeated as he lifted himself from the table, "yet I could foresee that the task was destined to fail. Even a stallion requires a blindfold to breed a donkey. If you had sent the dh'oine mutant to your lab, our mages could have extracted what was needed from her in the same manner as they would from any other chimeric abomination."

Avallac'h spoke slowly and evenly through his downcast gaze. "You're no Aen Saevherne. But the thinking of a dh'oine pours from your mouth in natural abundance, Eredin." He did not raise his head as Eredin paced forward, shortening the gap between the two elves.

"Acting as the little dh'oine's pimp seems to have come to you just as naturally," he taunted with the curl of his lip. "The role suited you so well in fact, I had forgotten that you were Aen Saevherne."

Avallac'h had heard enough. With an imperceptible gesture of his hand the atmosphere of the room became charged and crackled with light. The glow radiated around the two elves as a portal manifested into existence beside them with such explosive ferocity that it sent books toppling from their shelves and scrips of paper fluttering about the room. He had summoned the portal effortlessly and wordlessly, the elvish way. The way of the Aen Saevherne.

"If that will be all," Avallac'h queried rhetorically as he turned on his heel to leave. His impassive expression and tone remained, but his eyes were like ice.

"Almost," Eredin answered casually. "There is still one other matter."

The commander returned to the king's bedside and reached down, clutching the crown of the Alders in an ebony-clad fist. He raised it up like a trophy to be admired in the pulsating light of the room before placing it upon his head. The sight was so abhorrent that Avallac'h averted his gaze.

"The king is dead," he proclaimed with a debaucherous grin towards the sage. "Long live the king."

Avallac'h said nothing as he passed through the portal, his expression indifferent.

* * *

The she-elf with ostentatious gold makeup ran a hand through her flawless straw-colored hair as she admired her reflection in the mirror, pursing her pistachio-painted lips together in a smirk of satisfaction. The sudden boom of a portal manifesting into existence behind her provided such a shock that she jumped from her seat, inadvertently sending the mirror crashing onto the floor. The shrill shrieks of the hysterical creature, her hair now mussed and crinkling with static, made Avallac'h wonder as he exited the portal if a Banshee had somehow managed to find its way into his laboratory. He frowned as the she-elf whirled around, realizing that he was facing something far worse.

"Aen Seaverhen," she exclaimed in a honeyed voice, curving her lips into a pleasant smile. " _Caed'mil_!"

The she-elf's masterful control over her own features concealed any indication that she had contorted them so repulsively moments earlier. Her revealing dress was like gossamer in a dusty shade of rose, clinging perfectly to her body as she walked towards the sage. She held out her hand expectantly, as if inviting him to kiss it.

Avallac'h ignored the overture as he walked past the she-elf to inspect the table, frowning at what he saw. His jars of specimens, phylacteries, and potions meticulously organized by color and size had all been carelessly pushed aside into an overflowing leather trunk. Bunches of flowers and herbs had been scattered about in their place, along with pestles and mortars spilling over in a mess of crushed blends and pastes. Oils were dripping from the lip of the table and puddling onto the floor. He seethed in anger; first at the careless handling of his chemicals and ingredients, and second at the audacious violation of the sanctity of his lab.

She had been crafting makeup.

"I granted you access to the tower," he scolded with stretched syllables. "Not the inner sanctum of my laboratory. There are sensitive chemicals here."

"I have sensitive needs!" she pouted as she looked up at him with doe-like eyes. Avallac'h realized that she had dilated them with belladonna. "Besides, this was the only place where I could find any mirrors."

Avallac'h scowled in annoyance as he bent down to pick up the frame of the broken mirror. It was a priceless artifact from the world of the Aen Seidhe and valuable piece of equipment.

"These mirrors are not for the attunement of your vanity. They are used for attuning light to-"

"Yes, yes, that's all so very fascinating..." she snubbed with a hand on her hip. "What news do you bring from the palace? Have you spoken with Auberon?"

Avallac'h ignored her as he placed the mirror on his desk with a thunk. He attempted to adjust the broken frame while the harpy screeched on in her prattle.

"I've upheld my end of the agreement! I told you everything that you wanted to know about Auberon's preferences. Of course, none of that could ever make the filthy dh'oine girl presentable enough to-"

The she-elf was interrupted with a tisk of disapproval as an elf in Dearg Ruadhri armor ducked his bald head through the entranceway. He would have cut an imposing figure if he hadn't leaned into the frame with a comical grin across his face.

"Well, well, Avallac'h..."

Avallac'h looked up momentarily from his ministrations. "General Imlerith," he addressed with indifference. "What brings you here?"

"Duty in the service of our king," Imlerith taunted as he walked over to the she-elf, removing his gloves. "Gratifying in its own right, but still a task I volunteered to perform more for the sheer curiosity of the thing." He inspected the she-elf with amusement as she obliged him with an enticing smile.

"Get to the point," Avallac'h demanded as he shrugged out of his cloak. He draped it across a chair before seating himself at his desk.

"I had to see it for myself," Imlerith chided as he caressed the she-elf's face with the back of his hand. "I never would have believed the dogmatic Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha capable of giving his affections to the living. So virtuously devoted in his unreciprocated affections towards the dead. Why, it was almost tragic..."

Avallac'h displayed no emotion or interest as he took a Gryphon quill from its inkwell, tapping it against the glass. There was a papery rasp as he set it to a piece of parchment.

"Then again," Imlerith continued as he withdrew his hand, "it is always easier when these things can be bought."

"I presume," Avallac'h asserted as his eyes followed the quill across paper, "that your sire uttered the same phrase upon soliciting your mother. Did he impart this story to you before, or after he became the mindless thrall of a hairy Succubus?"

Imlerith simply chuckled at the remark. Avallac'h set down the quill and raised himself from the chair, looking the general in the eye.

"I do not have time for your games, Imlerith. Why are you here?"

The she-elf turned away from Imlerith with a huff. "I do not belong to Avallac'h! These accommodations are... temporary. I belong in the palace with his majesty! I'm his favorite!"

" _Thaesse_!" Imlerith barked at the she-elf, his amusement with the creature now spent. He raised his hand as if to strike her, but the sage stepped between them both.

"That will not be necessary," Avallac'h exhorted as he pushed the she-elf aside without so much as a glance. He handled her with as much manner as he would a sack of rocks.

The she-elf blinked in astonishment at the general. "How dare you attempt to strike me!"

Imlerith brought the palm of his hand to his face in a snort before erupting into guttural laughter. The boisterous roar was so deafening that it seemed to echo off every tile in the laboratoy.

"She's no Lara Dorren, that's for sure!" Imlerith managed to spit out as he caught his breath. "Maybe you'll thank me for the improvement once her squawking head is removed from her shoulders, Avallac'h!"

"Touch a hair on my head," the she-elf screeched in defiance, raising her nose, "and his majesty will hear of it!"

"Of course he will. When I bring it to him. Attached to your bloede blond head!"

"I doubt," Avallac'h interjected curtly and calmly, "that our king shares your interest in the company I keep, Imlerith. Now, if your curiosity and vulgarity have been sufficiently indulged..."

"Bah!" Imlerith exclaimed impetuously, "I was sent by the king. Sent to bring his justice to this bloede whore!"

Avallac'h glanced back at the she-elf. She had a horrified expression and her heavy makeup did little to conceal that all the color had drained from her face.

"What crime could she possibly be accused of committing?" Avallac'h questioned.

"She gave the poison to your pet Dh'oine. The poison that was used to murder Auberon!"

The she-elf wilted like a flower onto the tile floor and broke into sobs. "No! This is all because of that dh'oine! I made that potion for the little dh'oine!" She grabbed at the crimson cape of the general amidst her groveling, but Imlerith kicked her hand away.

"Do you see? The dh'oine-conspiring whore admits it!"

"The potion was meant for her!" The she elf sniveled on. "I was turned away from the palace because of that detestable little dh'oine! I just wanted her to get what she deserved. I wanted to get back the life I deserve! He said it was needed for the little dh'oine. He said! The Commander-"

" _Thaesse_ , you bloede bitch!" Imlerith spat, "Eredin will see you brought to justice!"

" _Esseath d'yaebl_ , you devil!"

There was a thunderous bang as Avallac'h summoned an orb of rumbling light to interrupt them. It evaporated just as quickly with the twist of his wrist as he calmly spoke.

"This is the laboratory of the king. My laboratory. If justice is to be rendered here, it will be by my hand. Not your reckless mace, Imlerith..."

"Tch! I'm told this is Caranthir's laboratory now," Imlerith mocked as he crossed his arms. "But do as you will, Avallac'h. This should at least prove interesting."

The she-elf's hands balled into angry fists on the floor, her expression furious as she looked up at the sage.

"Avallac'h, you gave your word! Does the word of an Aen Saevherne mean so little?!"

"My word," Avallac'h stated heavily, "means more than you could ever know."

"I would have the life I deserve! The life I had in the palace! This is how you fulfill your promise? Your word?!"

His face had no emotion as he looked down at the pitiful sight of the she-elf.

"I gave you my word. You shall have what you deserve."

Hot tears of anger streamed from the she-elf's doe-like eyes. They mixed with her makeup and dripped to the floor in golden droplets.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Aen Elle - People of the Alders in Elder Speech. The elves that left Geralt's world centuries ago.  
Aen Ithlinnespeath - Ithlinne's prophecy about the world's end/rebirth.  
Aen Seidhe - People of the Hills in Elder Speech. The elves of Geralt's world.  
Aen Saevherne - Knowing One in Elder Speech. Elven sages. The most powerful type of mage.  
Bloede - Bloody in Elder Speech.  
Caed'mil - Greetings in Elder Speech.  
Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha - Avallac'h's true elven name.  
Dearg Ruadhri - Red Riders in Elder Speech. The Wild Hunt's horsemen.  
Dh'oine - Human in Elder Speech. The Aen Elle view them as an inferior species.  
Esseath d'yaebl - You devil in Elder Speech.  
Geas Garadh - Magical Wall in Elder Speech. The barrier contorting space/time around the Aen Elle capitol.  
Hen Ichaer - Elder Blood in Elder Speech. The blood of Lara Dorren. Ciri is the only remaining descendant.  
Thaesse - Silence in Elder Speech.  
Zireael - Swallow in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed Ciri.


	2. Chapter 01

The grand hall had been a place of extravagances and libations in the time of Auberon Muircetach. The King of the Alders had decorated the marble court with every manner of frivolity one would expect elves in their ennui to desire. The status-climbing elven courtesans, adorned with their gold makeup and little else, were what General Imlerith vividly desired most as he leaned against a pillar with an audible lamenting sigh. The only companionship that the barren court offered him now was frozen within the Amell marble gaze of its naked statues.

" _Dice._ Speak," Eredin commanded from his seat upon the throne, his voice echoing off every vacant corner of the marble hall where his generals and advisers now stood. The King of the Wild Hunt had summoned them to discuss the recent capture of the swallow.

Navigator Caranthir stepped forward. The skeletal helmet concealing his face was affixed with a three-pointed chakram that cast the shadow of a halo as he knelt, giving him the appearance of a grotesque fallen angel. His amplified voice emanated from the helmet in an ethereal reverberation.

"I can keep her slept indefinitely, _elle_. The swallow cannot fly away from a sphere of dreams."

"How does it feel, Aen Saevherne, to see your pupil accomplish for his king what his teacher could not?"

Avallac'h did not deign to answer from beneath the hood of his robes.

"Do not be disheartened," Eredin jeered. "There is still a service that your king requires of you. It is a task that Navigator Caranthir tells me you are uniquely suited to perform."

The King of the Wild Hunt gestured to the navigator with the wave of his hand, beckoning him to stand and explain. Caranthir obeyed.

"Only an Aen Elle conceived to carry the activator gene intended for Lara Dorren can channel the _Ard Gaeth_ , the Great Gate," Caranthir proclaimed with the ghoulish turn of his helmet towards the sage. "Only you, Aen Saevherne."

"The _Ard Gaeth_ ," Eredin declared righteously, "it must be opened. We will flee this dying world and reunite with our Aen Seidhe brothers to repossess from the Dh'oine vermin what has always belonged to us."

Chancellor Ge'els nodded in approval. He stood with his legs apart and both arms crossed behind his back as he addressed the room with the practiced lilt of a politician.

"Perhaps," Ge'els surmised in a haughty tone, "there will be a place for the _glean feulk_ under our conservatorship once we take back the old world. The Dh'oine captured during the Dearg Ruadhri's hunts have certainly proven to make capable and obedient slaves."

Avallac'h had no love for the older races and even less for the dh'oine, but he still felt repulsed by the suggestion that would have never been uttered in Auberon's time. There was no indication of his disgust or any other emotion as he lowered his hood and stepped forward to address the throne, his staff clanking upon the floor. His tone was calm and collected as he spoke.

"The cataclysm which faces our world will follow us to the world of the Aen Seidhe and every world that we retreat to thereafter. The _Aen Ithlinnespeath_ speaks of the end of all things. We are only delaying the inevitable if we retreat to the world of the Aen Seidhe and abandon the purpose for which the Elder Blood was conceived."

"What purpose might that be, Aen Saevherne?" Ge'els questioned with an air of disregard, preoccupying himself with the adjustment of his sleeves.

"Confronting the White Frost. Bringing an end to the doom which has faced all worlds since the time of the Conjunction." There was fatalistic finality in his words.

Caranthir's incredulity boomed through his helmet. "Even if we shared your irrational belief in Ithlinne's fairy-tales, your negligence years ago destroyed the only possibility of ever seeing them fulfilled."

"That was what I once believed, in my hubris. My resentment towards the Dh'oine for... defiling and stealing our world away from us."

 _'Defiling and stealing Lara away from me...'_

His expression was cold and dead for a moment before he raised his head to continue.

"I assert that Ithlinne's Prophecy has been misinterpreted. We have assumed for centuries that the Aen Saevherne, Lara Dorren, befouled the bloodline when she chose the dh'oine mage, Cregennan of Lod. What if that union was fated and Zireael is the destined result? What if Zireael were to confront the White Frost?"

Imlerith, who had been disregarding most of the conversation in boredom, suddenly burst into laughter.

"That little dh'oine mutt of the Gwynbleidd?! You're joking!"

"You speak of the theory of causality," Caranthir's booming voice resounded with a serious tone. "It is a theory that devours itself with self-contradictions, like the mythical Ouroboros."

"That the fate of all creation," Ge'els sputtered with a chortle, "would hinge upon the putrescent byproduct of a blood crime! If we were not already doomed by the natural disaster befalling our world, we would be now!"

Eredin stared down at Avallac'h from his perch with the emerald eyes of a hawk. "We all know the fate of the last king who indulged your superstitious fantasies, Aen Saevherne. I will not be the next casualty claimed by them."

Ge'els nodded in affirmation. "Neither should the fate of our people hang in the balance. Securing the future of the Aen Elle and Aen Seidhe is all that matters now."

"Enough of this talk," Eredin proclaimed with the careless wave of a hand. "Aen Saevherne, your king commands you to open the _Ard Gaeth_."

Avallac'h sighed inwardly as he resigned himself. "I can only summon the channel to reach the _Ard Gaeth_. The Elder Blood is the key to opening it and that is a power which only Zireael possesses. I cannot open it without her cooperation."

"There are many ways," Caranthir threatened, "with which I can induce a dh'oine to cooperate unconditionally. Each more painful than the last."

Avallac'h frowned as anger built at his temples. He convinced himself that it was the shortsightedness of the suggestion which inspired the feeling, rather than the implication of torture befalling a dh'oine girl. His expression and tone were calm as he made his refutation.

"Once conscious, Zireael will fly to another space and time. All the more reason to allow me to pursue my theory."

"Pursue your theory," Imlerith chuckled as he crossed his arms, "or pursue your infatuation? I recall another Aen Seaverhen who had a thing for Dh'oine..."

The practiced and controlled calm of Avallac'h's face disappeared as it contorted with all-consuming rage at the mere suggestion, his icy glare towards Imlerith cold enough to freeze the room. He refused to take the bait and collected himself before continuing.

"If I could reason with her-"

"Reason?" Ge'els interrupted with a scoff. "With a dh'oine? I'd have a more engaging exchange with a _pavienn_!"

"Careful, Aen Saevherne," Eredin cautioned. "Your king has given you a command and you will obey it - not question it. I will hear no more of your theories."

" _Elle,_ " Ge'els addressed in a servile tone, "I sometimes use dimeritium necklaces to keep the dh'oine chattel on my estate in check. Perhaps a collar fashioned from the same material would resolve this problem?"

Avallac'h shook his head in dismissal at the suggestion.

"Zireael is not a unicorn that can be captured with a golden bridle. There is no dimeritium necklace or chain you could craft that would restrain the Elder Blood flowing through her veins."

"The swallow is useless to me," Eredin boomed in his frustration and impatience, "if she cannot be used to open the _Ard Gaeth_! I do not care how you clip her wings, so long as she breaths long enough to serve our purposes."

Imlerith raised his head at the invitation with a depraved grin. "Even an animal too clever to be caged can be made lame and broken. Let the swallow fly to another sphere after I've taken my mace to her legs. We'll see how far the bloede dh'oine bitch can crawl with shattered shins. Maybe my mace will even get a taste of the Gwynbleidd when he answers his pup's cries."

Avallac'h tightened the grip on his staff so tightly that his knuckles went white. His face was dead and cold as he stared down at the ground.

Eredin nodded to his generals. " _Ess'tuath esse_. I leave the problem of the swallow's cooperation in your hands. Manipulate her, torture her, mutilate her, I do not care. The swallow will open the _Ard Gaeth_. Now away with you. _Esseath spar'le caemm._ "

* * *

'Zireael ... ... ... Zireael ... ... ... Zireael'

The voice carried by the breeze was light and pleasant as it maintained its mantra, like a lullaby. Ciri's veridian eyes fluttered open as she stretched and yawned into the back of her hand with an involuntary wink, gazing up into the canopy of the softly-lit tree where she had fallen asleep. The air was clean and sweet, every breeze rustling the blossoms on the branches and sending a dusting of lotus petals tumbling down to earth. She lightly brushed away a few that had settled into the snowy whispers of her ashen white hair. Somewhere in the distance, Kelpie whinnied and grazed amidst endless fields of blooming myrtle. There was a faint nagging feeling at the back of Ciri's mind, like something had been forgotten, but she disregarded it with a relaxed sigh as she leaned back into the soft flowery loam at the base of the tree with a contented smile.

She had almost dozed off again when the thin arch of her brow curled in awareness that she was cold and uncomfortable. The feeling creeping in the back of her mind transformed into a panic and rippled through her body like gooseflesh when she realized that she couldn't shift or move. It was the return of the beckoning voice, urging yet patient in its monotonous tone, which somehow managed to calm her.

'Zireael ... ... ... Cirilla ... ... ... Ciri'

The canopy of the lotus tree was gone when Ciri's lidded and heavy eyes opened, replaced with the silhouette of the disembodied voice that had reached into her dreams. She realized as the dim figure came into focus that he was looking down at her from behind the blank silvery stare of an expressionless mask. He wore the airy hooded tunic of a mage, stitched together with velvety pieces of cloth that varied in shape and size. The soft material wrapped around his lithe frame like a robe and was cinched at his waist by cured leather belts, pouches, and straps fastened together by metal bits. His familiar voice was without emotion or inflection as he spoke in a low and even tone.

"Ciri. Zireael. Listen carefully. The curse I have woken you from was very strong. It has weakened you and there are physical injuries. If you leap now, if you jump to another space and time, you will be too weak for fight or flight once they follow. Where you are now is not safe. We shall away from here, but you must trust me. Do you understand? Nod if you understand."

Ciri nodded. She didn't really have any choice in the matter. Her trust was not something ordinarily granted to strangers, much less suspiciously masked ones, but these were far from ordinary circumstances. She was in a haze of weakness and hardly aware of feeling in her own extremities enough to command them. If this man was her captor, then he already had her where he wanted her. No, this man was her savior, and what savior would release her only to bring her harm? She moved her lips as if to speak to him, but her throat was too dry for any words to come out.

The mage seemed to sense her distress. He reached at his side and removed a leather waterskin from his belt, uncorking it with a sharp pop. His other hand retrieved a pinch of something from a pouch and drizzled it into the container slowly. Before Ciri could question what the mage was doing, he propped her up gently and placed the nozzle to her trembling lips. She gulped the liquid down hungrily, realizing with disgust that the added component had been salt.

"I am going to try to get you standing now. We do not have much time."

The mage made a series of imperceptible gestures that she could not understand. They reminded Ciri of the Signs that Witchers make. There was a tingling sensation throughout all of her limbs as she sat up fully, like the feeling she would get whenever her leg would fall asleep. She had been laying upon a cold alabaster table in what appeared to be some kind of laboratory. The shelves lining the walls were cluttered from floor to ceiling with colorful phials, elixirs, philters, and decoctions. There were jars filled with strange specimens both plant and animal, some of which Ciri could not even recognize from her Witcher training. The sulfuric smell and taste of saltpeter seemed to linger in the air, or maybe it was just the salt still on her lips. Either way, she couldn't help crinkling her nose.

The mage curtly wrapped an arm around Ciri's corseted waist to support her as her legs swung off the table. The motion sent test tubes filled with viscous sanguine liquids clattering to the floor and rolling upon the hard tile. There was a nauseating churning in the pit of her stomach as she stood up and dizziness overcame her immediately, causing her knees to buckle. She leaned against the mage as he held her, keeled over at his side, and retched with a sickening splatter onto the marble floor. Her face was hot with embarrassment when she raised her head and wiped her mouth, but he did not seem to care at all. They stood together for a moment in silence as Ciri steadied herself.

"Do you need to be carried?"

He might have intended the question literally, but he blurted it out with such indifference that Ciri couldn't help feeling indignant and patronized.

"No," she exasperated with an irate look as she withdrew from him, leaning against the table instead. "I think I'll manage. I just... need a moment." She sighed with fatigue as she brushed a loose strand of ashen white hair behind her ear.

"They collected samples from you using Bloedzuiger larvae. Stronger than the leeches of your world. You've lost a great deal of blood."

"What do you mean?" There was a tremulous quiver in her voice. "What was done to me?"

She turned over an arm in bewilderment to see that it was covered with ghastly crimson welts and bruises. Slices and cuts connected the punctures dotting her skin like constellations on the page of a book. The torn flesh was miraculously knitting itself back together slowly. Healing magic, Ciri guessed. She wondered why she felt so little pain, but decided that it was probably better not to question such things. She uncinched the billowy sleeves of her blouse and pulled them down to conceal her arms. There was a bitter and threatening resolve to her tone when she rephrased her earlier question.

"Who did this to me?"

The mage did not answer from behind the vacant stare of his mask. Instead, he turned to face the alabaster table and reached into one of the many leather pouches attached at his belt, removing a variety of tiny trinkets carved from gemstones and precious metals. There was a diamond sword, sapphire bracelet, and golden figure of a woman. They reminded Ciri of the charms that adorned a childhood bracelet she was once given by her grandmother in Cintra.

The mage laid the diamond sword and sapphire bracelet upon the alabaster table, returning the golden woman back to the pouch. He took a step back and with a few quick and indistinguishable gestures the small figurines began to emanate a white light so blinding that Ciri had to shade her eyes and look away. Once the light had diffused, she looked down in wonderment with a hushed gasp to see her Gwyhyr sword and Kelpie's magical bracelet. She scooped up the Gwyhyr first and admired its familiar weight in her hand before slinging it across her back. She picked up the chunky bangle next, attaching it to her wrist with a metallic click.

"I suppose that for you're next trick," Ciri teased with a playful smile and a sing-song tone, "you'll pull a rabbit out of your hood? Or maybe a golden woman from your belt."

Although she joked at her mysterious savior, she was actually somewhat impressed with his abilities. Triss Marigold had once said that she could count the number of mages and sorceresses on the Continent who had mastered the art of artifact compression on each hand - sorceresses of the Lodge being among them - and Ciri had never heard of any Source which could cast such complex spells without uttering an incantation. Except...

"Come," the mage beckoned with urgency, interrupting her thoughts. "We must leave now."

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Aen Elle - People of the Alders in Elder Speech. The elves that left Geralt's world centuries ago.  
Aen Ithlinnespeath - Ithlinne's prophecy about the world's end/rebirth.  
Aen Seidhe - People of the Hills in Elder Speech. The elves of Geralt's world.  
Aen Saevherne - Knowing One in Elder Speech. Elven sages. The most powerful type of mage.  
Ard Gaeth - Great Gate in Elder Speech. It is a gate that can connect to any world/space in time.  
Bloede - Bloody in Elder Speech.  
Caed'mil - Greetings in Elder Speech.  
Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha - Avallac'h's true elven name.  
Dearg Ruadhri - Red Riders in Elder Speech. The Wild Hunt's horsemen.  
Dh'oine - Human in Elder Speech. The Aen Elle view them as an inferior species.  
Dice - Speak in Elder Speech.  
Elle - Alder in Elder Speech. Used as "your majesty" when addressing the king.  
Ess'tuath esse - Thus it shall be in Elder Speech.  
Esseath spar'le caemm - You are ordered to go in Elder Speech.  
Geas Garadh - Magical Wall in Elder Speech. The barrier contorting space/time around the Aen Elle capitol.  
Glean Feulk - Low Folk in Elder Speech. The races which the Aen Elle deem inferior to themselves (every race).  
Gwynbleidd - White Wolf in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed the Witcher, Geralt.  
Hen Ichaer - Elder Blood in Elder Speech. The blood of Lara Dorren. Ciri is the only remaining descendant.  
Pavienn - Ape in Elder Speech.  
Zireael - Swallow in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed Ciri.


	3. Chapter 02

Avallac'h always thought that the dh'oine had a pathetic preoccupation with the passage of time. The first humans to arrive on the Continent, primitive and tribal as they were, chiseled large dials into the stone edifice of mountains in an effort to measure time by the changing position of the sun. When their civilization developed, so did their methods of calculating time in every perceptible form. They began to count the seasons, chart the stars, and even measure the infinitesimal differences in time between a spring day and a fall night.

Humans ascribed a pretentious value to every day that measured their fleeting lives. Yet even within this uniquely human perception of time, sixteen years was regarded as a minor passage in the lifespan of an adolescent. Ciri had been sixteen-years-old when she rode out of Tor Zireael into the world of the Aen Elle. She had been old enough to kill men, but she had not yet known them. It was a fact that Avallac'h had not foreseen when the walls of Tir na Bea Arainne revealed to him the vision of her arrival. Although he would never admit it to himself, it was an irrelevant detail that exercised an unusual influence over his judgment then, and continued to burden him now.

Avallac'h never before considered himself to be a monster. The dh'oine were the true monsters. They reduced the sophisticated architecture of ancient elven cities to rubble and arrogantly built wooden shacks upon the remains. They profaned sacred elven ruins and plundered antiquities only to melt them down in their human lust for precious metals. The hairy hands of humans had destroyed everything he culturally valued as an Aen Elle, defiled the woman who was his only love and joy in life as a man, and befouled the bloodline that was his sole purpose as Aen Saevherne to maintain. The bitterness that chilled over his heart long ago had never truly ebbed. It had only frozen over into the cold logical resolve of his obsession to see Aen Ithlinnespeath fulfilled.

Avallac'h had rationalized to himself then that the ends justified the means. They each had their role to play; she as the victim of prophetical circumstance, and he as its curator. The rationale had always been clear in his mind. Yet deeply buried within his heart was a conscience clouded. How could a man so complicit to such a monstrous crime not be a monster himself?

* * *

There are many types of prognosticators who attempt to predict the future, Aen Saevherne being the few who predict and interpret it accurately. But Avallac'h knew the unpredictable whims of women to be truly unknowable, contravening even prophecy itself in unforeseen ways. If he could understand the nature of such a mysterious force, much less predict it, his life would have turned out much differently. He did not know that the Witcheress would trust the masked face of a stranger; it simply seemed more plausible than the recognizable face of a monster.

When he arrived at the top of the staircase and did not hear her following, he feared that she might have fled from him after fully regaining her lucidity. But he was soon reassured by the clicking sound of her boots spiraling up after him. She reached the top of the stairs and leaned an outstretched arm against the polished stone wall, catching her breath. When she looked up at him, he gave a curt nod to allow the brief respite she clearly needed.

 _'Of course,'_ Avallac'h cursed himself for being so careless, _'she lost a significant amount of blood...'_

Avallac'h was not accustomed to the annoyance of adjusting his cadence in step with a companion. He reminded himself as he adjusted his silver mask that he would need to move more considerately. He could not risk leaving her behind in her condition. Their condition.

Ciri knew that while the strange sorcery of her savior dulled her pain, she could still black out from fatigue without pacing herself. She took the opportunity to stretch briefly and try to regain the feeling in her numb limbs. The nimble movements captured Avallac'h's attention and without realizing he allowed his eyes to wander over her. She was balancing in place and bending back one leg, grabbing the supple calfskin of her boot. It was almost graceful for a dh'oine.

He hadn't noticed how much she had physically matured in the years since he had last seen her. She had grown taller, although she was still shorter than elven women and had not inherited their willowy qualities. When she stretched the muscle in her sculpted thigh he realized that her curves accentuated her form in a uniquely human way. Her hips had spread from her slight waist and there was a perfect curve to each of them. Even her breasts seemed to have grown fuller. There was a loose opening at the front of her blouse that would shift whenever she arched her back, revealing a hint of soft flesh hidden just beneath the silky fabric. It invited his eyes to linger longer.

"I was thinking about that mage you told me about," Ciri remarked obliviously.

The sound of her voice broke the spell that her movements had cast upon him. He turned away from her distracting form shamefully, swallowing hard against the feeling of self-loathing that was rising up in his throat.

"The one who owned that lab," she scratched the back of her head in thought. "Chamomile?"

"Caranthir..." his voice came out more hoarsely than he would have liked. He coughed to clear his throat, which did not go unnoticed by Ciri.

"Caranthir," she tilted her head, an ashen strand falling across her face. It did little to conceal her slight embarrassment. "How did he capture me?"

"The same way that he would again. While you slept, using a powerful Curse. He has a collection of ancient phylacteries and reliquaries. His... hobby."

"But how did he find me? I fled across so many worlds. I hadn't seen the Wild Hunt in months. Longer than months, even..."

She arched her brow. His back was half turned to her as he looked down the inky blackness of the corridor, seeming preoccupied with his thoughts.

"I hadn't seen the Wild Hunt in a _savaed_..."

" _Saovine_ ," his flat tone betrayed a slight tinge of conceited annoyance.

 _'So he is an elf,'_ Ciri realized. _'That dialect... Ellyon?'_

"If you are sufficiently rested, we must continue. I can explain along the way."

He gestured and summoned a small orb of light, nudging it up to float above his shoulder. The gentle glow illuminated them in the darkness and reflected off the smooth basalt of the corridor as they walked.

"There was never a moment when Caranthir was not tracking you. The Wild Hunt pursued and gave chase until you were too exhausted to continue. They needed only wait for the right opportunity. One hour in this world can be a year in another."

"The strategy of running up any game," Ciri wrinkled her nose. "So how skilled is this Caranthir at tracking?"

"Navigators specialize in detection and acquisition magic. It is how they traverse through gateways and portals across vast distances. Caranthir just so happens to be an exceptional Navigator."

Ciri let out an exasperated sigh. "Then it is only a matter of time before he finds me again, even with your help. I should jump to another-"

Avallac'h stopped so abruptly that she thudded into his back. He turned around to face her, glaring down from his hood with the silvery stare of his mask. There was a sternness in his voice that was such a departure from his usual calm that Ciri took a step back.

"Listen to me, Zireael. I promised to free you from this world. Once I deliver you from here, you will be free of me as well, as you wish it. I give you my word. But do not use your power recklessly. Every jump invites your recapture."

"You misunderstand! I can take you with me! I wouldn't abandon you..."

She didn't know why she had said it, or why the words had felt so hot upon her tongue that they radiated warmth into her cheeks. This man was a stranger to her. She didn't know his name, or even his face. Why was she placing so much of her trust in his promises simply because he had rescued her? Confusion swirled within her as the rational doubts in her mind battled with the excited feelings in her chest.

"I do not matter..." Avallac'h's calm low tone returned. "That's not the point. Your childish reliance on your power at every opportunity is what lead to your capture. It is a carelessness which cannot be repeated."

Ciri's emerald eyes burned with indignation. "My power and my wits are what have kept me alive! I've spent my whole life running from those who would harm me or... use me. Long before I had this power. Long before you ever appeared! Who are you to lecture me on my survival?!"

Avallac'h sighed inwardly. She was just as stubborn and emotional as he remembered her being years ago. But it was a trait of her blood. Lara's blood.

"I do not begrudge the efforts that you took to survive, Zireael. Allow me to explain..."

Ciri's features softened. She felt moderately ashamed by her sudden outburst as she looked away from him.

"I'm listening..."

"When you jump, your power reverberates across every sphere intersecting its path in space and time. There are few forces in the universe which leave so momentous a magical impression. The signature is unmistakable to any mage. That is how Caranthir tracks you. That is how the Wild Hunt pursues you so relentlessly."

"Then what? I just don't use my power and hope that at the end of this corridor, things will somehow be different? How do you plan to escape from this world without my power?"

"I have, with all due modesty, extraordinary abilities of my own."

* * *

There was a simplistic illustration drawn on the chiseled surface of the stone wall in an opalescent white paint. It reminded Ciri of the paintings left behind on the walls of caves by primitive man. Two plain white lines ascended from the floor at elegant angles and converged into the shape of a lancet door large enough to pass through. It was visually unremarkable except for the filligre markings interwoven into its inner border.

Ciri knew what this painting was. It was a portal... and she wouldn't go through it.

"No, I refuse. Vehemently refuse! The last time I went through a portal like this at the top of a tower, I wound up being tossed midair into the middle of the Korath desert. When the fall didn't kill me, I wandered for days without-"

"What tower was this?" Avallac'h interjected.

Ciri raised an eyebrow. She knew by now that the mage had intended the question literally, even if his tone was devoid of any interest. She had expected to hear an argument from him again, not idle curiosity.

"The tower on Thanedd Island... in Temeria. The locals called it Gull's Tower. Tor-"

"Tor Lara..."

"Yes."

"That portal was made by someone... very long ago. It is surprising that it would function for you at all."

There was something very different about his tone that caught Ciri off guard. It was as if his usual impassivity had frozen over into something quite cold. But there was no trace of it when he spoke again.

"You are correct to mistrust any portal which you do not know. They can be very unstable. Dangerous, even. But I assure you, this portal will not harm you."

"I'm not scared of the portal!" Ciri protested unconvincingly, crossing her arms. "I just... my way is usually more effective. Any mage teleporting nearby could cause this portal to destabilize. Spit us out over a desert, even..."

"The lesser magic of other mages will not distort the function of this portal. Their teleportation would be forced to bend around the greater magic at work. Do you see this border? Are you able to read it?"

Ciri fidgeted with a loose strand of hair in her face briefly, trying to remember what she had learned about portals in her brief time at the Temple of Melitele in Ellander. Nenneke had taught her how to read some magical runes there as a child, but the marks that the mage was pointing to on the wall looked nothing like them. They didn't even look elvish. Did he really expect her to 'read' them?

"You mean those squiggly marks?" She was frustrated with how childish her choice of words sounded.

"Those marks are my magical signature. They are never identical between any two mages. If you see a portal with these symbols, you will know at a glance that you can traverse it safely, because I crafted it."

"Maybe to the trained eye of a mage," she laughed nervously with a hint of hurt pride, lowering her eyes. "But they just look like random scribbles to me. I doubt I'd be able to recognize one of your portals from any other."

The ignorance of the statement stunned Avallac'h into silence. What else was the greatest Source living, if not a mage? How was she never taught to read portals? Were the dh'oine too blind to recognize her nascent abilities and provide her with proper tutelage, or were her teachers simply inept? Of course. They were dh'oine. The carnal creatures, in their cruelty, never appreciated the rich pearl cast before them centuries ago. Why should this one be any different, even if she was their own spawn?

Ciri's emerald eyes traced the markings on the portal curiously as she ran a careless hand through her ashen-white hair. Avallac'h watched in silence as she covered the scar on her face with a snowy lock in an unconscious movement of embarrassment.

He rummaged through one of the leather pockets at his belt and approached the wall.

"What are you doing?" She demanded more than asked, concerned that he was going to activate the portal. She said that she wasn't going to go through the portal and she meant it. She meant it and she wouldn't because... she couldn't bring herself to do it.

The soft sound of chalk scraped along the stone surface of the wall with every sweeping motion of his hand. He examined his work briefly before taking a step back and dusting himself off.

"I have modified my magical signature," he stated plainly. "I will continue to do so with this symbol. Consider it the first lesson of your instruction on reading portals, beginning with a symbol you already recognize."

Ciri stepped beside him. There was the simple yet elegant symbol of a bird to the left of the portal, opening its wings as if to take flight.

 _'No, not just a bird,'_ Ciri smiled knowingly. _'It's a swallow...'_

"It is your decision, Zireael. My portals lack the elegance of your travel, but you will be more difficult to track the further we flee from here using them. They cannot track your power if you do not use it."

Ciri looked up at the silver mask of her savior. He didn't need to convince her anymore.

"I'm ready..."

* * *

"Really now, Caranthir," Imlerith bemoaned with impunity. "I don't have time to help you search for some Cursed pet rat or any other hideous grotesques you might have lost right now. Can't you see that I'm preoccupied?"

Sunshine glittered through the leaves of the garden as the Dearg Ruadhri general reclined in a lush chaise lounge. Three giggling she-elves in frilly translucent undergarments pawed their affections upon him as they sat amidst silky pillows littering the dewy grass. One began to make an adventurous and contorted journey onto his lap, smiling deviously as she worked to unbuckle the straps on his armor.

The Navigator was silent from behind the unreadable glare of his chakram helmet. Imlerith exhaled an exaggerated sigh as he pushed the she-elf off of him to rise from his seat. He snatched up his gloves as he followed the Navigator down a hedged path.

"This better be bloede important," Imlerith spat, fastening the buckles on his ebony chestpiece as they walked.

"The swallow has escaped," the ethereal rasp of the Navigator's voice diffused through his helmet. "but she has not yet flown from this world. We share a vested interest in caging her again before that happens."

"So this _is_ about finding another lost pet of yours," Imlerith scoffed as he kicked away an errant pebble. "Didn't we... _you_ assure Eredin that this could never happen? Have you told Eredin?"

"Don't be a fool," Caranthir boomed with a chilling reverberating bass. "Of course I haven't told Eredin..."

"I've always said that the methods of mages left much to be desired," Imlerith mused as he wiped a hand over his bald head. "You'll conceive the most convoluted ways to accomplish what a severed tongue could just as easily. I've always said-"

"You've always said too much," Caranthir growled through his helmet like a ghost. "You talk too much. If only I could sever your tongue..."

Imlerith sneered. "So how did the little pup escape this time? Did you leave her cage open?"

"She did not escape on her own. Someone is helping her."

"The Gwynbleidd...!" Imlerith curled his lips as he pounded a fist into his palm. "So he has come for her. This might not be a complete waste of my time."

"The Gwynbleidd is a Witcher and does possess advanced knowledge of Curses," Caranthir gave a troubled tilt of his helmet. "But it is curious. She is still on this world and yet... someone conceals her signature from me. Someone... capable."

Imlerith did not attempt to hide his amusement. "The tracking efforts of the most proficient Navigator in the Dearg Ruadhri, foiled by the Gwynbleidd's latest side of sorceress flesh? Ah, Caranthir, you truly do need my help."

"They could be acting in accordance to some stratagem," Caranthir disregarded the taunt amidst his fervent speculation. "They may be planning to leave our world without using her power."

"The only other way would be through Tor Zireael."

"Therefore it is their most likely destination, and shall be ours as well. The old gate is another possibility, but even if a dh'oine sorceress could find it, she would not be able to open it. She would need to be..."

They both came to a halt on the pebbled path as Caranthir paused, seeming to consider some detail of importance that he had previously disregarded.

"No," the Navigator resounded firmly as he dismissed the thought. "Tor Zireael is where we should concentrate our search."

"That's the problem with mages," Imlerith jabbed with an air of conceit as he fitted on his gloves, "you think too logically. Desperation will drive any wild animal down the wrong path, even a white wolf. We'll divide our pursuit here - I'll search the cistern."

"Why waste your time in that labyrinth?" Caranthir grated through his helmet with disapproval.

"You might not be fond of that monstrosity you keep hidden under there," Imlerith chided as he looked directly into the soulless eyes of the Navigator's helmet. "That thing you call a face. But women are quite fond of mine. I'd prefer not to have it suffer the same fate under Eredin's wrath..."

Caranthir was silent as Imlerith slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder with a twisted smile.

"Besides, it is the cornered wolf that has the fiercest bite...!"

* * *

They emerged from a winding ivory arch onto a gleaming platform outlined by the silver edge of tranquil waters. There was no perceptible ceiling above them, only an eternity of darkness reflected within the endless shallows that extended below in all directions. Countless smooth pillars of varying shapes and sizes curved down from the darkness above to meet wide steps, platforms, and parapets rising just above the sparkling surface. The only illumination was a meager glow with no discernible source. It hung unnaturally just over the surface of the crystal water.

Ciri couldn't help from releasing a sigh, suddenly feeling quite small.

"What is this place? Where are we?"

"The old cistern below Tir na Lia," Avallac'h explained factually. "The Easnadh used to run through here, but it is just the Tuathe tributary now. The water shouldn't be too deep for us to traverse."

"The Sigh and the Whisper..." Ciri trailed off in recollection, nudging a loose slab of marble with her boot.

"Do you remember them?" Avallac'h asked in a way that was unemotional and yet somehow boastful. "They're remarkable accomplishments of elven engineering, much like this cistern. There are few sights like them left in your world..." His tepid tone seemed to plummet for a moment, but that couldn't have been possible.

"How could I forget," Ciri grinned widely in her own world of amusement, the cultural sensitivity of his history lesson falling flat on her ears. "I had a romantic boat ride down the Easnadh once with a strapping dark knight. I dumped him, though. Overboard. You could even say that I sent him up the river without a paddle..."

The mage was silent. Ciri hadn't expected him to understand the context of her painfully overplayed puns anyways; much less appreciate them in the same way as Geralt. She noticed that his hood was turned away from her. He was looking over his shoulder, as if he sensed something.

"Stay calm," he stated more than warned as he gestured a spell. "Do not draw your weapon. Do not run."

The spell manifested a faint light that fully encapsulated their platform at an arc. It floated over their position like half of a glowing soap bubble on the water. Ciri looked out into the cistern as a wrinkle marred her forehead. The only sound carried by the still air was the dripping hiss of moisture amidst a backdrop of silence until her cat medallion began to hum. Then it appeared, an eerie glimmering of light in the distance.

Crackling just beneath the surface of the lacy water a few meters away from them was a luminescent circle of brilliantly blue electricity. Emerging from its nothingness with a thrumming hiss was a thickly-plated creature of significant size. The monstrosity resembled crab and spider, but was neither. It twirled around on eight filamentary legs as if searching for something, its barbed pincers aimlessly cutting through the air as its mandibles chittered a membranous chant. When it turned to face their position with countless needled eyes devoid of pupils, it stared straight through them. The creature opened its combed mouth to display conical fangs as it cried out in a deafening scree of frustration. The sound was so cacophonous that it cracked across every pillar in the cistern, reverberating long after the creature had retreated back into its void and disappeared.

Ciri blinked. "What was that?! It looked like some kind of Kikimore only... larger and more hideous."

"One of Caranthir's failed experiments," Avallac'h dismissed without much interest. "They all get tossed down here eventually. This one appears to be a chimera created from Triangle Within a Triangle."

"Oh! I like this game," Ciri mused as she pressed a finger to her lips playfully. There was a small smile dancing around her mouth. "Triangle Within a Triangle... Alzur's Double Cross... Ah! Could it be a Koshchey?"

"Spoken like a true Witcheress," his silver mask turned to face her. He was impressed and made no effort to conceal it in his tone. "You are correct."

Hearing her savior's praise brought a swelling of pride to Ciri's chest as she placed her hands on her hips. She gazed up at him as a stunning smile spread across her face. It crinkled the gnarled scar on her disfigured cheek, but Avallac'h did not notice. He was enthralled by the golden heat rippling along the rims of her emerald eyes. It was his obsession, the spark of Hen Ichaer, and he had always been able to see it. But as the golden glow smoldered with the intensity of her emotion, her eyes concentrated on him, he felt a long forgotten feeling awakening inside of him.

The prolonged silver stare of his mask made Ciri's skin become confusingly hot. She lowered her eyes suddenly, freeing him from the enchantment he found there.

"But it used teleportation," Ciri dug her boot into the platform absentmindedly. "Koshchey don't have that ability..."

When she looked up she was irritated to see that his hood was turned away from her again, his attention focused between two narrow pillars in the distance. Electricity began to bubble there just beneath the rippling surface, reflecting off his silver mask.

"This one does."

The Koshchey crawled out sideways between the pillars only to entrap itself, its front pincers flailing at the air in futility as it screeched in frustration. The carapace of the creature slowly slid back into the depths of the luminescent circle, disappearing into the nothingness as it closed.

Ciri grinned. "Maybe it will trap itself for us!" she clamped a hand over her lips to restrain herself from giggling like a girl at the thought.

"Wait here," Avallac'h ordered as he knelt down and descended from the platform, wading out into the shallow water.

"What?!" Ciri's hand fell to her side, her face suddenly becoming very serious. "Don't tell me that you intend to fight it alone?!" She hopped down from the platform and splashed after him. "They're resistant to all forms of magic! My Uncle Vesemir said that only a Mirror Effect spell has ever killed one..."

The mage was disregarding her in the practiced way that mages were so infuriatingly adept at doing. Ciri stomped through the stagnant water in frustration at being ignored.

"We've got to be more than twenty meters underground! Unless those little blinking lights of yours can generate the power of the sun..."

Ciri stopped briefly, puffing out her cheeks to blow away a loose strand of hair as she seethed at his lack of acknowledgment. She splashed up to him, reaching out with slim fingers to grab his hand.

"Would you wait a minute?!"

He stopped dead in his tracks beneath her touch. Ciri stumbled forward as she clung to his arm, pulling it to her chest as her heart sped up. They stood completely motionless in the soft glow of the still water, unbearably silent.

Avallac'h swallowed uncomfortably. He could feel her warmth melting through him, inspiring a heat that began to burn through his blood. He wanted to ignore her and the strange feelings she had conjured inside of him moments ago. It was unnatural for him to be getting distracted by what he should not want. Monstrous for him to desire what he could not have. He was a rational man and yet some steps along this journey were strangely starting to make him feel less grounded in reality. He needed to focus on the matter of the Koshchey.

When Ciri slowly disentangled herself and took a small step back, he released an involuntary sigh of relief behind his mask.

"Tell me..." Ciri asked nervously, massaging her wrist as she tried to calm her racing pulse. "Tell me how you plan to fight it?"

"I don't intend to fight it at all," his low tone answered beneath a barely steadied breath. "I will lure it away from here. Ensnare it, somehow..."

"Then take me with you!" Ciri exclaimed. "That's what Witchers do, we face monsters."

Avallac'h kept his back turned to her. If only she knew the monster she was facing right now.

"Witchers slay monsters," he rebutted calmly as he regained his cool composure. "Mages summon and bind them. I don't doubt your proficiency, but it would be simpler if the Koshchey only had one target."

Ciri exhaled heavily with the weight of her annoyance. The mage said it would be simpler for him, when what he really meant was that it would be safer for her. She didn't appreciate being coddled in a situation that presented equal danger for them both.

"So I should just wait here for you, like a good girl?" Her facetious tone dripped with indignation.

"Would you?" Avallac'h asked literally, pivoting around to face her.

There was a spark of frustration glinting in her emerald eyes. Ciri was familiar enough with his mannerisms by now to know that he didn't intend to patronize her, but that didn't make her feel any less insulted. She wanted to be angry with him and yet her heart felt gripped with frantic uncertainty.

"What if..." her features softened with worry as she began to rub the back of her neck. "What if you don't come back? That thing, the Koshchey... it can disembowel a man with one swing..."

"I will come back," Avallac'h stated with the knowing certainty that only Aen Saevherne possessed. "I give you my word."

"How is your word supposed to reassure me?" Ciri frowned at the infuriatingly unsatisfactory answer.

"Seeing as how I do not plan on being disemboweled, I intend to keep it."

She crossed her arms with a disgruntled sigh, looking down into the water. Avallac'h turned away from her, gesturing a spell that swallowed the unmoving air of silence between them. There was a sharp electrical snap followed by an explosion of force as the brilliant light of a cerulean portal whirled into existence, pulsating waves of energy that churned up the air and rippled along the surface of the water. He turned to face her again briefly before stepping through the light, his silver mask lingering upon her, but she didn't raise her head until after the portal had closed behind him.

Ciri climbed onto a nearby parapet, sank against the trunk of its pillar with a sigh, and waited. She dangled her feet off the edge and kicked at the shallow water more out of worry than boredom. Eventually she began to exact her frustrations against the parapet itself by crumbling off flat pieces of white shale and skipping them across the glowing surface of the shallows. There was only the soft echo of falling water drops and the patter of stones on rippling water for some time. Then something oddly disconcerting pierced the stillness of the air.

Ciri strained her ears. She definitely heard it.

Whistling...

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Aen Elle - People of the Alders in Elder Speech. The elves that left Geralt's world centuries ago.  
Aen Ithlinnespeath - Ithlinne's prophecy about the world's end/rebirth.  
Aen Saevherne - Knowing One in Elder Speech. Elven sages. The most powerful type of mage.  
Bloede - Bloody in Elder Speech.  
Dearg Ruadhri - Red Riders in Elder Speech. The Wild Hunt's horsemen.  
Dh'oine - Human in Elder Speech. The Aen Elle view them as an inferior species.  
Ellyon - Dialect of elvish spoken by the Aen Elle.  
Gwynbleidd - White Wolf in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed the Witcher, Geralt.  
Hen Ichaer - Elder Blood in Elder Speech. The blood of Lara Dorren. Ciri is the only remaining descendant.  
Koshchey - Monster from the Witcher novels/game. It is based on a Russian fairytale.  
Savaed - Month in the elven calender.  
Saovine - Year in the elven calender.  
Zireael - Swallow in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed Ciri.


	4. Chapter 03

There was nothing melodic about the call. It rang out sharply three times, as if a specter was beckoning to its ghostly hound from somewhere deep within the consuming darkness of the cistern.

The sound carried past Ciri and faded into nothing as the curtain of silence descended once more. She stood up and reached between her shoulders, drawing her Gwyhyr from its scabbard in one swift motion. The metallic song of the blade cut through the deafening silence so clearly that she froze. It resonated off the cold surface of every pillar as if echoing back its response.

The sinister voice that answered enunciated every menacing syllable in delighted amusement.

"I know you're out there... little pup...!"

Ciri's emerald eyes narrowed. The voice was so clear and penetrating amidst the echoing backdrop that she could reasonably deduce its location. She did not have the heightened senses of a Witcher, but she still had the training and her wits about her. She focused on the slippery sound of trudging water from that direction until gradually, slowly, she could hear and visualize it. The heavy footfalls of plate armor and the scrape of metal against the submerged mosaic floor. It was a rider of the Wild Hunt. There was something else, something heavy and intimidating that was being dragged. The edges were dull, but the weight of the thing was massive. She didn't want to be anywhere near it if he swung it.

Ciri flattened her back against the pillar and considered her options. Her savior was fighting the Koshchey, risking his life for her at this very moment. Abandoning him here wasn't even a possibility in her mind. She would have to stand her ground even if fighting her opponent head-on in her weakened state was out of the question. Emerald eyes darted around the forest of pillars until a gleaming assortment came into focus, lifted up from the shallows on massive platformed steps of ivory. The gap between each pillar was so narrow that a person could barely fit between them. That would be their battleground. She hopped down from her perch, landing on both feet with a splash and making no effort to be stealthy. She kicked up the chill as she swiftly sprinted her way towards the floating fortress. Somewhere in the darkness, heavy steps churned up their own current as they rushed out to meet her own.

When the first outline of sparkling steps came into view she leapt over them as nimbly as a water nymph, sliding across the moist surface of the marble platform and twirling behind the nearest pillar. The hefty clank of metal emerged from another corner of the makeshift arena with a splash as her pursuer weightily climbed each step with careful and deliberate footfalls.

"There's no use in hiding from me, pup...!"

There was a sickening anticipation restrained within the taunting tone of his voice. He was a hunter, but not the type of hunter motivated by thrill of sport or reward of game. This was a more debased predator whose pleasure was in decisively and deliberately rending flesh from bone to savor every tortured scream. Ciri calmed her nerves and controlled her breathing as she had been conditioned to do through training. She couldn't let him sense where she was going to strike from or the dance would be over before it began.

"Will the Gwynbleidd come for you when my mace makes you howl in pain...?"

She waited for her opportunity, focusing on his heavy footfalls as he passed. When his shadow faded away she whirled out from cover behind him and struck, slicing across the back of his legs just above the ankles, her blade grating against the matte metal of his armor until its sparking path ended just over the soft opening at the back of his knees. He lurched forward with a low growl through clenched teeth before sucking in air sharply and swinging his mace around in furious retaliation, but he couldn't bring the full force of it against her. It crashed into two pillars as she fluidly glided on her own momentum out of sight between the gap, leaving behind only the calcified skeletal remains of fragmented stone.

Ciri frowned in disappointment. She had been trying to cut through to the tendon at his ankles, but there would be other opportunities. She couldn't afford to be greedy when she couldn't parry or deflect the intensity of such bone-crushing blows. Fortunately his heavy armor made him slow and she was light on her feet. The pillars would protect her while she whittled away at his legs. She focused on the heavy sound of his steps and frantic breathing.

Her second attempt was more successful. She lunged while his back was turned and stabbed between the scaled metal folds of one leg, crippling his gait as he howled with rage and fury. She was already rolled out of sight when his mace crashed into the nearest pillar like a battering ram, carving away chunks of white marble amidst a cloud of chalky dust. The patterned droplets of his blood painted the white surface of the floor like a canvas as he clutched his crippled leg.

"Do you think nipping at my heels will stop me?!"

Ciri smirked as she licked her lips, her confidence emboldened after striking so true. She hadn't cut as shallow this time and her next strike would be even deeper. She rolled out of cover at her earliest opportunity, but this time he was anticipating her and she barely managed to sink to her knees when he whirled around. She ducked under the weight of his swing, slid between two pillars, and nearly plummeted off the abrupt end of the platform. She leapt to her feet and turned on her heel, realizing that she had trapped herself.

"You bloede mongrel bitch...!"

There was a thunderous crash as he swung his mace with such spectacular force into a larger pillar that it exploded in an avalanche of cold marble. Larger chunks chiseled loose in sections as they came crashing down around her, causing her to stumble backwards off the precipice of the platform. The shallow water did little to cushion her fall as her back smacked onto the mosaic floor, cold lapping at her body as a meteor shower of white stone rained down from the darkness above in all directions. She shielded herself with her arms as the milky rubble splattered into the surrounding water, some of it thudding onto her heavily and battering her body. She was in a haze when she leaned up with a groan, raising a palm to her head.

The sloshing step of heavy footfalls stopped just behind her.

* * *

Imlerith dug his fist into her ashen hair by the roots as he pulled her to her feet, yanking her head back sharply. Ciri's unrestrained yelp of pain caused the Dearg Ruadhri general's lips to curl back with demented delight.

"I'll teach you a new trick, little pup... how to heel obediently!"

He slammed his knee into her tailbone so hard that she buckled to the ground with a swallowed scream. When she didn't fight back and he was satisfied that she had submitted to him, he snapped back her hair and leaned over her shoulder, growling his intimidations into her ear.

"You've caused me too much trouble... I should flay this mangy white pelt from your head as your punishment! I'd gladly toss it at the Gwynbleidd's feet..."

"I... have to... tell you something," Ciri choked out through strained breaths as he pulled back on her hair, "about the... Gwynbleidd."

"Do you, dh'oine?" He leaned into her further with equal measure of amusement and curiosity, loosening his grip on her only slightly. "What do you have to tell me about the Gwynbleidd?"

She suddenly rocked her weight forward and swung her head back with sickening skull-cracking force into his face, his nose audibly crunching beneath the impact. His shock gurgled through the streams of blood running down his throat as he reflexively clenched at his nose, releasing her.

"He. taught. me. that. trick!" She sounded out the words over the deafening ringing in her ears.

She stumbled to her feet as her head throbbed with the threat of concussion, but the symptoms unnaturally ebbed and disappeared quickly like the rest of her pain. She sprinted with a sudden rush of adrenaline to where she could see her Gwyhyr glinting just beneath the surface of the water, forgetting to pace herself, her vision dimming as colorful spots of light danced around the edges. She slid down on her knees into the water as she fought back the looming sensation of blackness, reaching for her blade, when Imlerith suddenly materialized out of nowhere and tackled her from behind.

"Damn you're one slippery little dh'oine...!" He chuckled sadistically as he restrained her without much resistance, hot blood dripping from his nose and dribbling down her wet back. "There's no use in running. I can teleport at the blink of an eye, same as you..."

They were interrupted by a thunderous boom as air pressure in the cistern condensed and crackled. The blinding light of a cerulean portal began to swirl into existence a short distance behind them, rippling the water and swallowing the air in the atmosphere.

"It took that helmet-headed bastard long enough," Imlerith cursed over his shoulder, spitting blood from his mouth. "I was beginning to wonder if our inept Navigator got lost..."

The pressure from the shockwave once the portal fully materialized was so intense that Imlerith nearly lost his footing. Ciri tried to use the situation to free herself from the vice of his grip, but he violently slammed an armored fist into her side, knocking the wind out of her. He dropped her when her weight buckled against him and she splashed flat on her chest into the shallows, momentarily slurped up by the cold before swinging her head back and gasping for air. Locks of shiny silver slapped and clung wetly to the sides of her face as he kicked an armored boot into her ribs for good measure, causing her to curl over on her side with a repressed moan. It had the desired effect of keeping her down. He grinned at her with demented satisfaction as he licked his bloodied lips fiendishly.

"Should I break your legs now, or after you go back in your cage? Bah, I think we'll both have more fun if I break them now!"

There was a rhythmic membranous thrumming emanating from the portal that distracted Imlerith's attention away from his prospective torture victim. He looked over his shoulder to see long filamentary legs with ankled joints creeping their way into view from behind the light. He turned away from Ciri to face the portal with bewildered disbelief.

Ciri didn't waste time to catch her breath. She fervently searched the smooth tile of the mosaic floor with an outstretched arm until she felt it, her hand bumping into the familiar cold hammered steel of the Gwyhyr's hilt. The golden glow at the rims of her emerald eyes burned mischievously as her lips curved into a perfectly devilish smirk.

"Along came a spider...!" She rang out.

Imlerith turned his head to her only to meet the upward slice of her Gwyhyr with his face. The blade swung up at him from beneath the water and carved through his chin in one swift motion, sending him stumbling back wretchedly. He bellowed with indignation as his hands clutched at his mouth, shiny streams of blood spilling out from the gaps between his ebony-clad fingers.

Ciri scrambled her way up the ivory steps of the nearest platform, sliding across the smooth base until she was concealed from view behind the trunk of a pillar. She deftly peered out to look towards the portal and bit her lip as she smiled. Limping through the glow and shrouded by its light was her savior, his silver mask shining from beneath his hood. He had returned for her.

Imlerith was still reeling in shock as he wiped a hand down his bald head and bloody face, attempting to ascertain the identity of the figure that had emerged from the portal. Before he could think of how to act, the Koshchey surged through the blinding light and lunged at him, its razor-sharp pincers cutting through the air with alarming rapidity. Imlerith narrowly managed to dodge and teleport into another space quickly enough to escape its conical fangs, materializing meters away in a stupor.

"What in the bloede fuck?!" He shook his head briefly like a mangy dog, droplets of blood raining down from his nose and chin. He could hardly contain his astonishment at what was happening.

The Koshchey sharply scuttled from side to side as its mandibles busily clicked and chirruped together in noisy frustration, translucent viscous liquid oozing from its conical fangs and mixing together with the water. Imlerith whirled around in a panic; first in the direction of the Koshchey, and then in the direction of the unknown figure who was neither Gwynbleidd nor sorceress. He was dumbstruck and attempting to make sense of the situation. So was the Koshchey, it seemed.

Avallac'h limped his way up the smooth ivory steps of the nearest pillar as he held an arm to his ribs. He attempted to gesture some kind of spell once he emerged from the shallow water, but it was a bad idea. His arm was trembling in pain and distorted the motion, causing him to recoil in agony at the botched spell and crumple to his knees on the platform. Imlerith's eyes narrowed when he saw that the masked mage was gripping his wrist in anguish, electricity sputtering and dying within the palm of his hand. The Dearg Ruadhri general wasn't about to allow the mage a second chance at casting a lightning spell.

Imlerith brandished his mace and sluggishly sprinted towards the pillar with a crippled gait, preparing to shift through space and teleport at the last moment to deliver his blow. But the instincts of the Koshchey were faster. Its countless unblinking eyes began to glow as they focused on the shadow swiftly moving across their peripheral vision. The Koshchey lunged, slicing through the air at an arc with a buzzing hiss, closing the distance between its prey instantaneously, its eight legs pinning the ebony-armored elf on his back beneath the shallows. Imlerith's screams bubbled and choked through the water as he raged, flailing his mace wildly at the impenetrable exoskeleton plate of the massive creature that was neither spider nor crab, its shrieking chimeric scree reverberating through him. The Koshchey's barbed feathered feet scraped against his ebony armor with the sound of a thousand needles against metal as it restrained him, its mandibles droning an unsettling hum that summoned a crackling luminescent light over the water. The electricity encircled them in silence as they were swallowed into a void of nothingness, leaving behind no trace of their struggle once the glow had faded away from the rippling water.

Ciri pushed herself to her feet with a smile and sloshed across the shallows towards her savior, bounding up the steps to meet him. He was laying on the ground with his back propped against the pillar, cradling his side with one arm and breathing heavily in anguish. There was an empty philter in his hand; some kind of healing potion, Ciri guessed. She knelt down on her hands and knees next to him, worry marring her face as she attempted to ascertain his injuries. There was blood smeared behind the silver mask and down the side of his neck. She reached out to remove his mask, but he withdrew from her pitifully, pressing his back further into the base of the pillar like a scared animal. The movements seemed to cause him significant pain as he groaned.

"No..." His voice came out in a weak and breathless whisper.

Ciri frowned. "I need to see your injury!" She scolded with a complete lack of consideration for bedside manner. "There's blood and you could have a concussion..."

"I'm... a monster..."

Her features softened empathetically. She knew that most Sources were born with deformities and had reasoned that it could be why her savior concealed his appearance behind a silver mask. Hearing him refer to himself as a monster recalled every hurtful memory relating to her own appearance which had left its indelible mark upon her heart. She mused that if it wouldn't be such a liability in a sword-fight, she might wear a mask too.

"I don't care what you look like under the mask..." she whispered gently. "I don't care if you have a deformity..."

Avallac'h swallowed painfully. She was too naive to have any understanding of what he meant.

"I have a hideous deformity I'd rather hide too," she reassured him as she downcast her eyes. "I know what it is like to have people look at your face and call you... monstrous."

Avallac'h's anxiety evaporated as her words echoed through the cistern, or maybe they were just echoing in his mind. Her admission wrenched at his gut more ruthlessly than any Koshchey ever could. Her face wasn't hideous or monstrous to him. Hearing her say that it was with such conviction made his blood boil over with rage towards a world that would convince a daughter of Hen Ichaer to believe such foolish falsehoods.

Ciri reached her arms towards him again and he stiffly turned his head away from her in pain, but he could not escape her touch.

Delicate fingers slipped away his silver mask.

* * *

Ciri seethed in outrage as she stood over him, glaring down with emerald eyes alight with the righteous fury of judge, jury, and executioner.

"I saw oceans of ash filled with human bones. Humans like me, slaughtered by the Aen Elle like... like so many vermin!"

Avallac'h looked out across the cistern and brushed a thumb over the corner of his mouth, wiping away the blood that had settled there. There was no emotion in his expression or tone as he spoke from his seat at the base of the pillar.

"The rivers of blood spilled between our peoples have always flowed in both directions."

"This blood flowed from your hands! I would be granting the dead their justice by just..." her words caught in her throat briefly before tumbling out with less conviction, "leaving you here for the Koshchey..."

"Zireael..." his cerulean eyes looked up at her, "you would burn me on a pyre fueled by the sins of my people?"

Ciri's anger reignited. "I know that you brought the Aen Elle to this world! How can you deny your monstrous role in their crimes?"

Avallac'h frowned as he swallowed back the coppery taste of blood in his throat. If anyone could recognize a monster, it was a Witcheress; and he knew himself to be a monster far worse than the likes of the Koshchey. He couldn't deny his role in the Aen Elle's crimes against her. She deserved to extract her justice and part of him welcomed the end that would bring to his long-suffered misery of so many centuries. But that was not the crime she was accusing him of at the moment.

There was a cold and calculating logic to his tone when he calmly answered her.

"Even the most chivalrous knight in your world is honor-bound to serve in the unjust wars of his king. Would you place upon his brow a crown of thorns weighted by gilded tyrannies?"

Ciri drove her Gwyhyr into the soft shale of the platform in frustration. "Don't lecture me like some... professor of philosophy at Oxenfurt! I'm not a child anymore, Avallac'h. You can't manipulate me so easily by twisting your words around..."

Avallac'h let out a ragged sigh of exhaustion, searching for the words to explain a history he preferred not to recollect.

"I am Aen Saevherne. I brought the Aen Elle to this world when Lara was alive. When Lara was alive, such things were possible. She... made everything seem possible. Including coexistence with some humans. She loved your people, Lara..."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ciri grumbled dismissively, more focused on crunching weathered flakes of chalky shale beneath her boot in frustration.

"The tyrannies of kings in your world are borne from a desire for conquest. The tyranny of our king was borne from a loss that you would not comprehend. The grief of a father. The way that the humans butchered Lara... there was no voice, no force that could have restrained Auberon's wrath. Eredin and his Dearg Ruadhri delivered it upon your people."

Ciri frowned with skepticism. "I suppose you expect me to believe that you weren't involved?"

"I have never taken the life of a human, Zireael..."

"Why would I believe such a ridiculous lie?!" She shouted incredulously, her outburst echoing back across every pillar in resounding accusation.

"It is not a lie. It is a regret," he answered seriously as his tone chilled over. "Although it is ridiculous, I admit... delicious irony that I once spared the only human I would ever wish to choke the life from with my own hands..."

 _'Even that satisfaction was snatched away from me by the dh'oine...'_

His hood slowly tilted up as he looked her in the eyes, even though it was painful with his injuries.

"I have never killed one of your own, Zireael. Can you make the same claim?"

Ciri lowered her eyes as she pulled her Gwyhyr from the chalky shale and sheathed it in her scabbard. She still regretted her time spent running with the Rats; thieving, terrorizing, and even murdering people. More than one life had been taken by her hands and not in her own defense or the defense of others. The tattoo on her thigh was now a reminder of all the mistakes she made along that dark path in her life.

She kicked a rock away and slid down to sit beside him with a long sigh, looking out into the cistern as she rested an arm on one knee.

"I've... acted horribly," she answered honestly in a hushed and heavy tone. "Maliciously, even... on more than one occasion. I've made truly awful decisions that I now regret. Everyone tells me that I'm a child of destiny, but the circumstances I've found myself in... well, she's been a horrible mother."

Avallac'h's tension eased as her assault on him relented. He relaxed his head against the pillar and focused more on the soothing sound of her voice than the words of her confession. The motion caused a small trail of blood to trickle down the side of his face from somewhere beneath his hood. He absently wiped a hand over his temple and felt the familiar sting of a cut. The wound was only a graze, but it had just materialized. He knew what it meant and resigned himself to it with a sigh of indifference.

"Zireael," he spoke once she had finished, "I did not commit this crime against your people. However... I did commit a crime against you. One most heinous amongst elves. I've wronged you in ways unforgivable and... irreparable now."

Avallac'h's tone was burdened by something unfamiliar and overwhelming to him. Ciri recognized that it was guilt. She didn't face him as she hugged her knees to her chest with a small sigh. She knew what he was referring to and didn't want to think about it.

"Avallac'h... I don't care," she answered softly. "I don't want to leave you here for the Koshchey..."

He felt her shudder at his side briefly, as if recalling those long-buried memories. It rippled a wave of guilt through him that weighed down heavily upon his chest. But when it came again he realized that she was actually shivering from the cold and proudly attempting to hide it. He gestured a spell that summoned an orb of glowing warmth to float above them, radiating dry heat through their damp clothes. The soft humming chime of the manifestation was the only sound between them for a long time until Ciri finally broke their mutual silence.

"I never wanted to be alone," her voice trembled in the emptiness like a bell. "I've been running from those who would kill me... capture and use me... since I was a child. I've always wanted a normal life. The freedom of a world where I didn't have to run away from those I loved. The comfort of being cared for as a person... not some power or destiny."

"Ciri..."

Her lips parted slightly with a breathless gasp. It was the first time he had spoken her name and it shocked her. She turned her head and his cerulean eyes locked with hers, clear and sincere as they penetrated through the shadow cast by his hood.

"Zireael. The Aen Ithlinnespeath... it has cursed both our lives in different ways. It is a curse that I cannot lift from you. But I can and will fulfill my word to you. I will deliver you from this world, the Aen Elle... from me and all the wrongs I've committed against you. I will search every world, every sphere to find you that life. I promise that I will find you such a world. I will build it for you, if I must."

Ciri felt her heart racing as she froze under the calm conviction of his words. She ran nervous fingers through her ashen hair, unaware that she was attempting to hide beneath the snowy whispers that fell across the gnarled scar on her blushing face. She didn't know what to say... until she said it.

"Blood."

"What?"

"Blood!" She exclaimed through wide eyes as the color drained from her face. "You're bleeding!"

Avallac'h brought a hand to the side of his head, feeling the sticky warmth of blood on his palm. The cut must have opened further and was bleeding profusely down the side of his face in a shiny stream. He held his hand against the stinging wound to staunch the bleeding.

"It is minor. Head wounds release a deceptive amount of blood," He stated obviously.

"I saw that wound slice into existence from nothing! Only an injury from a Curse behaves..."

Realization dawned on her as she touched her hand to her temple. She had been struck there during the fight and felt no trace of a wound. Her quickened healing and near complete lack of pain had to be related. It was as if his injuries were mirroring her own.

"What did you do to us? These wounds... its as if they're being projected from me onto you."

It seemed like he was going to answer, but he suddenly sucked in his words and began to cough with a sickening wet sound. Blood slid up from the back of his throat with each violent expulsion of air as Ciri leaned him forward. He swallowed back a sharp breath as he attempted to regain control of his breathing, gesturing a spell. There was only the sound of his ragged respiration until he managed to regain enough of his composure to speak.

"Every magic... draws from a source," he explained through uneven breaths, "It just happens... that the source used to heal you was my own. This is the price, until you are fully healed. We will both heal quickly. Most mages do..."

"Your own source?" Ciri's brow crinkled in confusion. "Your life?! This is some form of blood magic?"

"Call it what you will..."

"I call it stupid!" She couldn't stop herself from saying it. He had only traded one Curse for another and it could have killed him. She didn't want to ask what would have happened if the injuries had been more severe. Why was he doing all of this for her?

"My knowledge of ancient Curses is limited," he breathed calmly, his tone relaxing as the pain subsided. "Healing the wounds caused by them was never the focus of my... as you humans would put it, academic title. I do not specialize in advanced curative magic. That was..." He trailed off for a moment before swallowing.

"That was who?" Ciri asked curiously.

"It doesn't matter..." He wiped the blood from his chin with his sleeve.

 _'She is all that matters now...'_

Avallac'h leaned against the pillar to stand. "Summon your horse."

"The bracelet? But Kelpie-"

"She will come. Use it."

Ciri didn't want to argue with him in his condition. She rubbed the magical bracelet on her wrist and from somewhere in the distance she heard the clap of hooves kicking up the cold water of the cistern. Weaving through the forest of ivory pillars was Kelpie, her glossy ebony coat diverging from the darkness. The mare trotted up to the platform and bathed in the humming halo of warmth and light that surrounded them.

Kelpie chomped at the bit as Ciri hoisted herself up, grabbing at the reins. The mare swished her tail in protest at Avallac'h's approach, leaning her lovely long neck in to snap at him. She took advantage of his unflinching indifference by tearing away a velvety piece of cloth from his tunic as her prize.

"I should warn you," Ciri laughed lightly with an air of pride, tugging back on the reins, "she enjoys biting the man who dares mount her!"

"Women are known to indulge in that satisfaction," Avallac'h responded indifferently as he brushed himself off. "I'll manage."

The remark was dispassionate but the mental image it evoked brought color to Ciri's face again. She loosened her grip on the reins expecting to help him, but he vaulted up on his own and settled in behind her with a low grunt of pain. Something about the sound and the feeling of his warm breath at her neck awoke a tingling tightness that tugged just behind her stomach. Before she could realize what was happening, he took the reins.

"She won't listen to you!" Ciri stammered with irritation hotly. "She only listens to whoever has the bracelet..."

"I know."

Avallac'h wrapped his arm over her own and cradled them together at her waist. Ciri opened her mouth to protest, but the only sound that escaped was something between a squeak and a moan as he firmly pulled her body into his, squeezing the secret sensation inside of her. Whatever words she had been going to utter were replaced with the thumping of her heart in her throat. She squirmed slightly in her seat as Kelpie rutted at the ground in annoyance.

 _"Caemm addan aine aen mir' gaeth"_

The spell summoned a small flicker of light that spun around them like a firefly before deciding to gently pursue a path to the west of their position. It faded from their halo and disappeared into the coal pitch of the cistern.

Avallac'h tugged on the reins to follow and Kelpie's nostrils flared, her head rearing back in a snort of defiance as her stomping hooves splashed up silver. He brushed his thumb over the bracelet as he mastered the black mare, digging in his heels to drive her forward at a trot with the click of his tongue.

"I'm a man of my word, Zireael," Avallac'h's calm lilt vibrated through his chest at Ciri's back. "It is not much farther now. Soon you'll be free of this world, free of the Aen Elle... and free of me."

Kelpie cantered through the darkness of the cistern like a shadow submerged in candlelight, silence hanging heavy between her two riders. Ciri leaned into the comforting heat at her back, confusion clouding her eyes at how protective it felt. She didn't know if she wanted to be free from his embrace at all.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Aen Elle - People of the Alders in Elder Speech. The elves that left Geralt's world centuries ago.  
Aen Ithlinnespeath - Ithlinne's prophecy about the world's end/rebirth.  
Aen Saevherne - Knowing One in Elder Speech. Elven sages. The most powerful type of mage.  
Bloede - Bloody in Elder Speech.  
Dearg Ruadhri - Red Riders in Elder Speech. The Wild Hunt's horsemen.  
Dh'oine - Human in Elder Speech. The Aen Elle view them as an inferior species.  
Gwynbleidd - White Wolf in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed the Witcher, Geralt.  
Hen Ichaer - Elder Blood in Elder Speech. The blood of Lara Dorren. Ciri is the only remaining descendant.  
Koshchey - Monster from the Witcher novels/game. It is based on a Russian fairytale.  
Zireael - Swallow in Elder Speech. What the elves nicknamed Ciri.  
Caemm addan aine aen mir' gaeth - Elder Speech - 'Come dancing light to show the gate'

 **Responses to Readers**

Thank you to everyone who has been kind enough to read and review my fanfic so far. I wasn't expecting any response when I posted the first two chapters, so it has been really surprising and encouraging! Thank you!

Avian Soldat - Most of my knowledge comes from the games, but I've read fan translations of The Tower of the Swallow and The Lady of the Lake. Unfortunately not all of these novels have been translated into my language. My characterization of Ciri and Avallac'h are probably not as true to the source material as they should be, although it is my intention for Avallac'h to resemble the videogame incarnation more. I'm looking for a beta reader who is familiar with both of these materials to keep me in line. Any critique or input you could give me would be much appreciated!

monima - Thank you for your lovely words! I also didn't believe that she-elf in his lab. =) I think she was just jealous of Ciri.

Andy - Thank you for taking such an active interest in my story. I'm a new writer, so I apologize for the delays between posting and I appreciate your interest in my story!

Nurm - I'm trying to have this fit in with the books I've read as best I can. The only thing I'm not going to make any effort to touch upon probably is Gallahad.

Kiba1500, demisses, Julianna, Jain - Thank you for your compliments!


	5. Chapter 04

The splashing cadence of Kelpie's feathered hooves was as consistent as a metronome and equally sedative. Ciri stiffened her back and struggled to keep her bleary eyes open. They had been riding past cascading stripes of repeating porcelain pillars for what felt like an eternity. She was beginning to slip in and out of consciousness when the black mare came to a sudden halt and jolted her awake.

Any divergence from the limbo of replicated architecture would seem surreal and the thing in front of them was certainly different. The partially submerged ruin resembled the dilapidated foundation of a tower. The stones it was set with were not the familiar Amell marble of the cistern, but dull pewter tarnished by time. There was a sharp acidic smell to the air as they approached. It reminded Ciri of steel being smelted at a forge.

"This is your freedom, Zireael," Avallac'h's words rolled through her back. "The Hen Gaeth. The Old Gate of this world."

Ciri clasped her Cat Medallion. It was gently vibrating in its own reactive rhythm like a heartbeat.

"Another portal..." she uttered uneasily.

"Yes, although not quite as mundane. This portal is a gateway between worlds..."

The mysterious inflection in Avallac'h's voice sounded as if it carried a wisdom as ancient as the structure itself. Ciri leaned forward with interest in the saddle as curiosity pinched between her perfect brows. Nothing about the ruin gave the impression that it could lead to another cavern, let alone another world, and yet here it was out of place in these monotonous depths. Avallac'h had said that the Easnadh once flooded the cistern. Maybe this insignificant arrangement of rock was the true purpose for such a labyrinthine place.

She saw it when she blinked. The curve of illumination on a gargantuan ring. Ciri wiped at the watery edges of her tired eyes and looked again. Set within the center of the ruin was a thin ring of sparkling matter. The smooth dark stone of the band only became visible for a brief moment when illumination reflected off its polished surface. The curtain of infinite darkness surrounding them swallowed it up again just as seamlessly. It seemed to defy gravity as much as human understanding.

If she had learned anything since Avallac'h awoke her from the Curse, it was that appearances could be very deceiving.

"So this portal works like the Tower of the Swallow? It connects my world with the world of the Aen Elle?"

"Not just your world. Every world. There are gates like this on every sphere, connecting them to countless worlds."

Ciri's eyes and voice lowered with concern. "What about that Navigator... Cerinthe?"

"Caranthir," Avallac'h corrected for the second time. "Cerinthe is a form of honeywort," he stated obviously.

"I know what honeywort is, Avallac'h," Ciri puffed out her cheeks and exhaled with a tired frown. "Witchers use it for blade oil."

She felt childish and ridiculous when he corrected her, even if the words themselves were devoid of emotion and inflection. Ciri fidgeted briefly within his unrelenting grip. Avallac'h felt his whole body stiffening in hard response to the small writhing movements. His mouth was a thin unmoving line as he loosened his hold on her, shifting back in the saddle as he cleared his throat.

"That Navigator," Ciri's eyes searched for the glimmer of the gate with apprehension, "surely he knows about this gate. You seemed pretty confident in his abilities as a tracker. Won't he follow us?"

"The nature of these gates," Avallac'h began in a voice that attempted to be reassuring until it became too analytical, "will obfuscate any effort Caranthir makes to track you. The Aen Elle will not be able to ascertain your destination so long as you refrain from using your power."

"Why is that?" She ran a hand through her hair and an ashen lock fell over the scar on her face.

Avallac'h recognized the gesture by now to be an indication of her own lack of assuredness.

"The stars in two different skies must align to form a connection between worlds. Such bridges are not unlike stardust, ephemeral as a streak of light in the night sky. They exist only for that fleeting moment in time."

Ciri's faded lips shifted with cynicism into one cheek as she stared down into the glossy void of Kelpie's mane.

"That doesn't sound quite as romantic when I imagine being tossed into the burning heat of a dying sun. How will we know where we'll end up any better than Caranthir?"

"My title, if you recall, is Aen Saevherne," Avallac'h explained in a tone so literal that his vaunting choice of words somehow belied modesty. "A Knowing One so named for possessing the arcane ability to predict such passages through time and space. I will use my knowledge to activate these gates and guide you through them, until you no longer wish it of me. Ordinarily, there would be some negligible probability for error or separation. However, we both possess what you might call an... exceptional gift of genetics. It negates such possibility, so long as we traverse together."

Avallac'h tugged on the reins slightly to stop Kelpie from chewing on the bit and waited for some sound or gesture of acknowledgment from the unpredictable woman in his arms. He knew she was more worried about Caranthir than she was letting on and he felt a need to reassure her. Explaining what he was knowledgeable about was a simple task of forming cogent words. Using those words to calm a creature he did not understand was proving to be much more difficult.

Ciri's charcoal-lined eyes had been focused on deftly weaving silky ebony strands of mane between her pale fingers while listening to the serene monotone of his verbose explanation.

"The fox with his thousand and two hundred eighty-six paths of cunning..." she muttered to herself thoughtfully.

Avallac'h was too thrown off by the statement to conceal the confusion that creased his sharp elven features. His pale blue eyes fell to her ashen hair as if there was some explanation buried within their snowy whispers.

"What?"

Ciri smiled in reminiscence as she leaned into Avallac'h's chest. His chin grazed along her hair softly before he moved his head considerately to one side. He found it unexpectedly pleasant to feel her relaxing against him, even if the feeling confused his body as much as his mind.

"It was a story that Geralt told me when I was little," Ciri spoke lightly as her hands worked on forming a dark braid. "After he found me lost in the Brokilone forest. The story of a fox who met a cat that was being hunted. The fox boasted to the cat that he knew a thousand and two hundred eighty-six paths of cunning through the forest. That they could use his paths to evade the hunters and their hounds." Her smile faded with her words. "The story didn't end well for the fox..."

Avallac'h furrowed his brow. She could recall exact numerical minutiae from this trivial childhood tale, yet she couldn't remember the name of the Navigator she feared for posing the greatest threat towards her freedom. The nonsensical categorization of meaningful information in her mind was truly mystifying. But right now this whimsical eccentricity of her nature was unnaturally alluring. There was an indescribable aura around her in this moment, some strange anomaly with its own gravitational pull that tugged him into her atmosphere. It filled his head with cotton as he felt contented to bask in its warmth and the feeling of her body resting against him.

She was bewitching and blurring his boundaries again.

Avallac'h's face once again rested into something unreadable.

"An interesting human fable," he remarked dryly as he reached to his side and detached the silver mask dangling at his belt, "but with circumstances not analogous to this situation."

Ciri looked over her shoulder as he pressed the mask to his face. Emeralds curved up at the corners of her eyes to reflect the cold glint of silver. Her brow wrinkled upward with confusion and tugged a corner of her mouth with it in amusement.

"Why are you still wearing that thing?"

Avallac'h took up the reins. "Your world is not the only sphere where hostilities exist between humans and non-humans, Zireael," he stated with a knowing apprehension.

"So...?"

"You will be safer if-"

Ciri exhaled with a groan of burgeoning frustration as she leaned forward.

"We..." Avallac'h maintained in a placid tone, "will invite less incident if you are not traveling with an elf."

He avoided a debate by invoking an activation spell.

 _"Straede aen'drean aep muire aep aine."_

Ciri blinked lazily into the emptiness of the gate. Nothing happened. Seconds passed and began to turn into minutes. She had almost drifted off again when the Cat Medallion startled her with a shuddering shake. The gate's incomprehensible circle of space trembled as it filled with an orange spinning glow that throbbed into the hushed manifestation of a portal.

"Right on time," Avallac'h stated more to himself than to Ciri as he tightened his hold around the curve of her slim waist. He squeezed in his heels to drive Kelpie forward and the black mare carried them into the sunset lens of light as if such a thing was entirely ordinary.

Ciri instinctively closed her eyes tightly to the unfamiliar. When they came to a halt she opened them to a monochromatic world. Everything from the bleakness of the overcast sky above to the stacked steeples of stone and boulder surrounding them was a shade of grey corroded with geodes of onyx. Soft beds of blackened lichen and moss clung to every visible earthy crevice. Kelpie had carried them through time and space onto a chiseled mountain path of obsidian with shadowed rainbow bands of shimmering color. The horizon was a vast emptiness marked with towering narrow mountains of timeworn rock that pierced through the howling air into clouds of mist.

The thin windy chill blowing over them was a clean and refreshing change from the suffocating stillness of the cistern. It was punctuated by the wavering bleats and cries of a small herd of white mountain goats as they pattered across the alternating stony glass surface unperturbed on stiff legs. The crashing sound of the portal closing from behind caused the flighty animals to scatter like a flock of gulls from breaking surf.

Ciri laughed in Avallac'h's arms as a tiny goat fell on its side amidst hysterics before stumbling back onto four legs and bounding away with the clicking of cloven hooves.

"Welcome to Col Heledh'aard," Avallac'h declared in an uplifted voice. The journey through the portal might have infused it with some small degree of pride, or he could have just raised it over a sudden breeze. Ciri was not certain.

"Heledh'aard... Glass Mountains?" Ciri looked up and winked into the flowing immensity of gloomy dreariness overhead. "I can't see the sun, but I'm guessing that these aren't the mountains of my world?"

"Correct."

"So the Aen Elle once lived on this world, too?"

"What makes you say that?"

There was an enigmatic inflection to his voice. Ciri's face returned to the undefined horizon with a slightly discouraged look. She knew from his tone that he was going to correct her. But oddly enough, it didn't annoy her. She must have been more tired than she realized.

"This place has an elvish name and we came through an elven portal?"

"The Hen Gaeth are not elven constructs," Avallac'h explained as he readjusted the two of them briefly in the seat of the saddle. "Aen Saevherne have merely charted and marked their event horizon on some worlds. Made them more... recognizable. The Hen Gaeth as a phenomena are more ancient than any race."

"Portals can't be more ancient than any race," Ciri wrinkled her nose with a puzzled expression. "Someone had to craft them."

She waited for him to correct her again with some tidbit of sage-like elven knowledge, but there was only the cold thin atmosphere of the mountain.

"Zireael..." Avallac'h's low voice was almost swept away by a sudden gust of wind. "That human parable. The one about the fox."

His tone carried something uncharacteristic for a Knowing One. It was a curiosity shadowed with uncertainty. Avallac'h ran his tongue over identical elven teeth as if the taste of a question in his mouth was quite strange.

"Did the cat escape the hunters and their hounds?"

Ciri smiled sweetly as she brushed a windswept ashen strand behind her ear and leaned into him. Her emerald eyes sparkled as they scanned the smoky mountains blending into the mist.

"Yes, and in a clever way. Did you want to hear the story?"

"No," Avallac'h answered with a light slap of the leather reins. "I've heard the only part that mattered."

There was the scrape of glassy stone beneath heavy feathered hooves as the black mare carried them down the winding obsidian path of the mountain.

* * *

Avallac'h realized she was asleep when they descended a steep gradient of gravelly onyx and her head lulled into the crook of his neck. The spell that once linked them had run its course and exhaustion had finally caught up with her. He brought the horse to a halt amidst a protruding assortment of sterling quadratic rock so that he could examine the limp woman in his arms. He brushed loose waves of ashen-white hair away from the diminutive human features of her delicate face and rested the back of his hand against the rounded curve of her disfigured cheek. It was cold. They were in a rather inhospitable climate. He reached behind him to a pouch at his belt and felt with fumbling fingers for a specific recognizable shape before withdrawing a compressed green artifact. He placed it upon the flat rocky edge of a jutting boulder and uttered a spell as Kelpie rutted impatiently. There was a flash followed by the soft crumpling of cloth as the object transformed.

Spells alone would not sustain them or replenish the blood that was lost. Avallac'h knew that with his only philter depleted he would be feeling the strain of fatigue soon enough. They both needed proper rest and succor. Time was ordinarily so insignificant to elves as to be imperceptible, but every granule of time spent with her had fallen upon him heavily in a variety of ways. He wanted to reach the human settlement at the base of the mountain as soon as possible for both their sakes as well as his sanity. Until then the green cloak would have to suffice in offering her some respite from the elements. He wrapped Ciri gently in the downy material lined with iridescent feathers as her brow crinkled and she made an almost inaudible moan.

Avallac'h's logical mind knew that her unconscious state was the unavoidable result of blood loss and exertion. Buried beneath this understanding however was a subconscious thought contrarily illogical. Some mirage of his own imagining that had been inspired within the depths of the cistern when she shared the murmurings of her heart. The delusional daydream that this was some display of her trust. That she had forgiven the monster she knew in the world of the Aen Elle and willingly fallen asleep in the arms of a new man who had emerged from the Hen Gaeth with her into a new world.

But this was only a perverse fantasy.

The reality was that willful acts required conscious choice. She would not have chosen to be in the arms of the man who had so grievously wronged her if she had any true choice in the matter. Her present condition was the consequence of his negligence in the cistern. Her compliance before that, desperation driven by circumstance. Her compulsion several years ago... coercion of an unforgivable conspiracy that was his own amoral craft. All of these events were similar in that they occurred in the absence of choice. Her choice. Mages were adept in the magical art of illusion and Avallac'h had masterfully presented her with illusions of choice since the time they first met.

The only redemption for him was in securing her safety along this journey to meet with destiny. Time was meaningless to an Aen Elle and especially one with a promise to keep. Vigilance towards her would cost him nothing of value. Not when his life lost its worth centuries ago. He would serve her until she finally exercised her freedom of choice. The choice to be free of him.

* * *

Resting upon the level plane of uplifted crumbling rock was a richly painted wooden wagon drawn by a pair of mules. Hanging over the floral motif of the back door was a decorative bar suspending three large golden spheres like an oversized wind chime. It was a symbol of trade. The bells inside each orb would jingle whenever the rutting mules disturbed the wagon.

The short young man in blue suede threaded with brown leather grinned from ear to ear as he lowered the cracked telescope. His unruly sandy hair fell over his stormy blue eyes and framed his spirited face.

"I was right!" his voice cracked in excitement through crooked teeth. "It was two atop the steed... and one's a lady! She's got to be the princess!"

Another man who could not have been much older flattened on the ground next to him in a bed of blackened moss. His sooty dark hair matched the color of his leather jacket while his depressing face fit all too well with their surroundings. He removed his thick spectacles and pinched at the red edges on the bridge of his nose before lifting up the telescope to one studious grey eye.

"Looks rather plain and poor for a knight, doesn't he? Only armor on him is that strange silver mask. That's all he could afford?"

"This princess looks like the sleeping variety," said the sandy-haired man as his mouth quirked to the side briefly in thought. "Maybe they're easier to rescue?"

"I hope this doesn't become a regular thing," sighed the dark-haired man with a frown as he lowered the telescope. He pinched at his nose again before fitting on the cumbersome spectacles. "If paupers are rescuing princesses in the Glass Mountains, I'll need to find a real job counting numbers. The boring kind... behind a desk."

There was a metallic clattering like so many pots and pans from the wagon behind them as a slender young woman in green calfskin and a low-cut top charged out the back door. It slammed behind her with a jangling sound only to creak open again on loose hinges. The beret she wore tucked away boyishly cut blond hair and was adorned with a single large golden feather. Her freckled features might have been pleasant if they weren't contorted into such a cynical and contemptuous expression. She wiped dirty hands over her cream breeches and left behind a congealed trail of blood.

"Stop your croaking, you little toads!" She scolded through painted ruby lips. "No pauper is sending me back to a life of whoring."

She angrily kicked away a rotting wooden sign with faded heraldic symbols and the fancifully scripted words 'Scenic Overlook' before kneeling down between the two men. She snatched away the telescope and held it up to a critical green eye.

"Somethings not quite right. Their horse is a black mare, not a white stallion... and where's the coffers of riches? The golden apples?"

"I-I don't know, Marielle," addressed the sandy-haired man as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Maybe he only had time to grab one thing...?"

"Don't be daft, Euchre!" Marielle shoved the telescope back to the sandy-haired man irately. "This masked hood just pilfered a princess from the Roc like a rogue and rode off without any value for coin? I don't believe it."

"B-but they return from the pass!" Euchre stammered awkwardly as his eyes rolled between her face, her chest, and the ground. "Never heard of any rider coming back from the top of the Glass Mountains... 'least not empty-handed... or intact..."

"There is one way to find out," said the dark-haired man. He stood up and lifted his spectacles with the touch of two fingers.

Marielle raised a thin eyebrow. "How's that, Pytha?"

Pytha shrugged with a blank look. "Well... we could ask...?"

* * *

Aen Saevherne had a natural ability for portents. Sensing monsters and magic was something of a sixth sense to any Knowing One. Circling within the shroud of thin clouds high above the Glass Mountains was a bird of prey with a wingspan of unfathomable size. The threat loomed over Avallac'h like its enveloping feathered shadow, along with the sudden foreboding feeling that he was being watched. Through the mist cascading down the narrow glassy canyon he could sense their approach on the wind. Not the beating wings of predators, but the rotting stench of carcasses. They were scavengers.

Avallac'h possessed the knowledge to sense danger. But most importantly, he possessed the wisdom to know when and how to avoid it. This canyon was the most defensible descent down the mountain and he wouldn't risk endangering her again so needlessly. He tightened his grip on Ciri as much as the reins as he rode forward.

There were three of them. Only one approached through the mist. He was riding a donkey.

"Hail!" Pytha greeted with a practiced smile, his spectacles glinting as he gave a curt bow of his neatly combed head of raven hair. "Hail and well met, Sir Knight!"

Pytha halted his donkey at the side of the road and its long fuzzy ears twitched as if they too awaited a response on the wind. But the dark mare trotted past as swift and aloof as a shadow without so much as a sidewards glance from her silent rider.

"Sir- Sir Knight!" Pytha adjusted his spectacles with some surprise and struggled with the stubbornness of his obstinate braying donkey for a moment before turning around to follow. "Sir Knight, have you slain the Roc...?"

Avallac'h didn't hear him as he dug in his heels and drove the black mare forward at a rocking canter. Clear pale eyes pierced through the silver mask as the next rider came into view up ahead on the rocky edge of the canyon wall. She wore a sour expression and was mounted atop a spotted pony next to a richly colored wagon. On her command it wheeled into motion with a jangling noise down the middle of the road and maintained the steady pace of a snail. Avallac'h gritted his even teeth as he pulled back on the reins and slowed Kelpie to a walk.

"Strangest knight I've ever seen," Marielle muttered under her breath as she rode up alongside Avallac'h and looked him over with a sneer. "Fool doesn't even carry a sword..."

Pytha stroked his chin as he flanked the other side, his grey eyes examining Ciri with some interest.

"That would explain why the princess was scarred by the Roc. Perhaps... perhaps a vow of poverty?" He raised his steely eyes and voice toward Avallac'h over a sudden gale of wind. "Sir Knight, would you make a display of charity-"

"Look, knight!" Marielle interrupted as she rode in close to Avallac'h, golden feather bobbing at his side as if it was the thing doing the talking. "I don't know how you defeated the Roc, but you're going to tell us where you left its treasure!"

Pytha shot her a spectacled glare. "He won't answer if you keep talking like that!" He hissed in a hushed voice that was still audible to everyone. "You need to address him like a knight!"

"Ohhh?" Marielle formed the sound with her lips in a mocking gesture. "You mean with flowery words like wither and thither and hither?"

Pytha cocked his head to one side. "No! I mean.. respectfully appeal to his sense of chivalry or honor or some-such..."

"Bloody hell, Pytha!" Marielle barked at him angrily. "Your sniveling has gotten us nowhere and you're supposed to be the high-born hero expert!"

"He hasn't said a single word," Pytha scratched his forehead in confusion. "Maybe he took a vow of silence instead?"

"Wait..." Marielle looked over Avallac'h again with a more discerning eye and a slight squint. "I think... I know what he is! I've heard of his type before. This one... he's a mage!"

"Well, I guess that would make sense..." Pytha shrugged with a face and voice as deflated as his ego. "Mages don't use swords..."

"They don't use swords because they fight with schemes!" Marielle's thin brows slanted in anger. "He's ignoring us because he's trying to deceive us!"

There was a squealed neigh as Marielle kicked her heels into the side of her pony and charged it forward. She came to a glass-grating halt across Avallac'h's path and pressed two fingers to her crimson lips in a sharp whistle. The wagon came to a jingling stop somewhere in the mist ahead so abruptly that its back door could be heard swinging ajar as something fell out with a metallic thunk. It rolled along the smooth chiseled surface of the road with a curving tinny sound until its long journey finally came to an end in front of a large hoof heavily feathered with ebony. Avallac'h glanced down at the shiny object with icy eyes and no expression. It was a visored helmet. Judging from the weight and stench, its former owner was still attached.

"Tell us, mage man," Marielle gripped the hilt of her sheathed rapier. It was resting across a thigh streaked with grimy blood. "Where'd you hide the Roc's treasure?"

Avallac'h scoffed inwardly. He would hide her disrespectful dh'oine tongue down her choked throat if she drew her sword. But he knew she would not.

"I am spent on time and patience," Avallac'h warned in a low voice with a tone that held nothing. It had a way of chilling his inoffensive words into something more threatening. "If my path remains obstructed, I will clear it unscrupulously. I propose that you avoid such an unfortunate event from occurring by allowing me to pass."

"He... he spoke," Pytha uttered with wide grey eyes as his spectacles slowly slid down the bridge of his nose.

Marielle grinned proud as a peacock under the shadow of her golden-feathered cap. She stared defiantly into the void expression of the silver mask.

"The frilly way this mage man talks, you'd think he's the princess!"

Euchre finally approached on short eager legs. He bent down briefly in front of Kelpie to pick up the helmet like a boy recovering a lost ball. There was a crooked smile on his ridiculous face when he raised his sandy head and looked up at Avallac'h with excited blue eyes.

"Will he help us? Does he know where the treasure is?!"

"Listen, mage man," Marielle spat with a smirk. "If any of us had any concern about 'unfortunate events occurring', we wouldn't have come to these mountains. The talons of the Roc don't discriminate, no matter what the tales say..."

"W-would you look at this!" Euchre sputtered suddenly as he held up a satiny corner of green cloak that once concealed Ciri's legs. "She's not even wearing a dress! This is just some... ratty old cloak! She's not a princess at all!"

Ciri moaned as she rustled awake through lidded emerald eyes laden with coal. She felt sapped of all energy and her neck was stiff. Every joint and bone in her body felt aching and sore. She brought a weak hand to her throbbing head and her palm touched something plush and downy. When she realized that she was wrapped in a warm cloak it almost brought some color to her paled face.

"Avallac'h," she spoke dimly through dry lips that held a slightly shy curve for a moment. "What's going on? Who are these... people?"

"Vultures in search of carrion," Avallac'h answered with a tinge of annoyance as he tugged on the reins. "Ignore them. We'll be on our way soon."

"Of course she's not a princess, you dolt!" Marielle gave Euchre an annoyed look as he walked up to her pony. "It was obvious the moment we spotted them. If she were a princess, she'd have a prince charming with her, or a knight in shining armor. Not this creepy hooded mage man in a mask!"

Ciri felt a fire of fury light up in her chest. "He's not a creepy hooded- I'll have you know that I am a princess!"

Avallac'h sighed inwardly. She had only just awoken and already too much was being said.

Marielle laughed haughtily. "Oh really? Prove it then, princess!"

"I..." Ciri tilted her head back in confusion as if slapped by some invisible hand. She was too exhausted to ponder such a riddling statement. "I don't really see how I could?"

"I have an idea!" Euchre held up one finger in the air as if it was the idea. "Give her an apple. The regular kind! If she eats it and dies, we'll know she's a princess!"

Ciri was about to answer when Avallac'h squeezed her so tightly that it was almost suffocating. He hissed a single metallic word through his teeth that the Witcheress recognized all too well.

"What-whoa!" Marielle flustered as her pony began to neigh and rear up, stomping wildly at the ground with the glassy crack of hooves. Euchre was nearly trampled underfoot before stumbling out of the way and dropping the helmet. It clattered like a metal bucket when he tripped over it in his astonishment, eyes wide as Marielle's pony pranced against her kicking heels and flanked the edge of the canyon wall. The mules drawing the wagon were next. They whinnied as they pulled the creaking cart aside in a dumb daze and cleared the road. Pytha decided that it would be prudent to immediately dismount his donkey and courteously lead it aside as he adjusted the spectacles on his blanched face.

Avallac'h gave a click of his tongue and Kelpie snorted heavily before trotting forward. Ciri couldn't help herself. She leaned out and looked back at the fading trio through lidded eyes, her pale lips tugging into a small smirk.

"Sorry to disappoint you," she yelled to them over the thundering clap of Kelpie's hooves, "but I'm actually quite fond of apples!"

Marielle was too infuriated to be shocked. "Mage man! How _dare_ you hex my horse!"

Ciri could still hear the obscenities being shouted behind them as she leaned against Avallac'h. Small giggles erupted from her as she smiled up at him with her tired face. Although she couldn't see it, it caused the corner of his mouth to curve up almost imperceptibly.

* * *

Kelpie had carried them only a short distance past the wagon when Avallac'h pulled back on the reins sharply and brought the black mare to a sudden halt. Ciri felt a growl vibrate from him at her back and settle within her chest. It sent an unusual shiver of excitement through her as a gale rushed down the pass. Avallac'h released his hold around her as the misty air in the canyon began to thicken into a much heavier fog.

"Stay on the horse," Avallac'h ordered as he dismounted.

The command was too disconcerting to anger Ciri. She felt the Cat Medallion begin to hum with warning as confusion and concern creased along her frayed features. She shouted to him through the muffling density of the rising air as ashen locks whipped around her face like a soft snowstorm.

"Whatever it is, we should stay together! Don't leave me to face it on your own again! it's too dangerous!"

Avallac'h's silver mask turned up to reflect her.

"I won't leave you again..." his low voice seemed to battle to stay even over the intermittent blasts of cold. "Stay with Kelpie."

Avallac'h walked a short distance ahead before stopping in the middle of the road. He looked into the shining prismatic void of obsidian underfoot and knelt down, placing a palm over the chilled glossy surface as the wind swept around him. Ciri drew the feathered cloak around herself tightly. She knew that he was preparing to cast some kind of complex spell. Whatever it was would undoubtedly be quite powerful, which was all the more troubling in implication.

Something other than the white noise of wind and the circumferential metallic chant of Avallac'h's disembodied voice began to fill her ears. It was the clacking of hooves on rocky chiseled glass. Ciri's chapped pink lips parted as she looked over her shoulder with a hitched breath. She anxiously searched the curtain of lace until her eyes narrowed on the foggy framed outline of riders. She was anticipating the Wild Hunt, but the braying noise of a donkey caused her to exhale some of her tension with an irate grumble.

Pytha faded into focus with Euchre peeking over his shoulder on the donkey. Marielle rode alongside on her pony with a look of pure indignation.

"Mage man!" Marielle shouted into the wind bitterly as she stood up in her stirrups.

Ciri pulled on Kelpie's reins angrily to meet their approach. She turned the shadowy mare sideways on the obsidian to block their path as her cloak billowed in the wind like a velour flag of veridian.

"Don't interrupt him! This is serious!"

Marielle smirked at Ciri with a smug expression as they all came to a halt.

"Ohhh?" She mocked with painted lips and a visible roll of her tongue. "Me and the mage man have business to settle. How are you going to stop me, princess?"

Dark emerald eyes heavy with coal and fatigue glowered their only warning.

"Don't call me that." Ciri cautioned coldly.

Euchre practically hugged Pytha as the eyes of both nervous men began to dart anxiously between the two women. The air pressure in the canyon seemed to rise up with the tension.

Marielle didn't back down. "What would you prefer? Sleeping Beauty? With that face...?!" She laughed uproariously and wagged her thin eyebrows. "No, no, princess suits you just fine!"

Ciri tore away the feathered cloak and drew her Gwyhyr from its scabbard in the same quick motion. The fluttering cloth hadn't made its journey halfway to earth before the pointed edge of polished steel was resting a millimeter from Marielle's flashing throat.

"So much as breathe another word," Ciri scowled with a spark of warning in the golden rims of her eyes, "and I'll slit your overused windpipe."

Marielle's hand hovered over the hilt of her rapier shakily. Shock was visible on her face as her lower lip curled back. It trembled and twitched defiantly as if she was going to say something. There was a part of Ciri that hoped the vile woman would do her the courtesy of speaking what would become her last words. The Witcheress licked along the chap of her pink lips as her mouth curved into something quite devilish. She expertly twisted the blade along the hollow of Marielle's neck as a challenging tone crept into her voice.

"Call me princess again and we'll see if I'm bluffing...!"

Pytha's thick lenses shifted slightly on his paled timid face as he raised his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Now... now hold on a minute, ladies..." he spoke with a shaky voice as Euchre stared wide-eyed behind him. "Let's all just calm down for a second..."

The powdery cold mist around them began to softly swirl and disperse. It formed an eerie corona of clarity over their position within the enveloping thickness of fog as Avallac'h finished his incantation. He stood up and turned around calmly, seemingly unperturbed to witness the spectacle that had developed in his absence. The void expression of the silver mask turned to face Marielle's troupe. Although it was evident that the spell had taken its toll upon the elven sage, his languid voice still commanded attention with its stern and mysterious tone.

"If you value your short lives, you will stay within this protective circle."

* * *

 **Author's Notes**

Aen Elle - People of the Alders. The elves that left Geralt's world centuries ago.  
Aen Saevherne - Knowing One. Elven sages. The most powerful type of mage.  
Col Heledh'aard - Mountain Pass of the Glass Mountains. A world borrowed from a Polish fairytale.  
Dh'oine - Human. The Aen Elle view them as an inferior species.  
Easnadh - Sigh. The name of the large river running through the Aen Elle capital.  
Hen Gaeth - Old Gate. The gates from "Through Time And Space" in Witcher 3.  
Zireael - Swallow. What the elves nicknamed Ciri.  
"Straede aen'drean aep muire aep aine" - Path entering into the sea of light.

Thank you to Andy, demisses, Kiba1500, monima, Nurm, and everyone else who has stuck with my story and been so very supportive! I hope that my story will continue to keep your interest and that my writing will improve along the way. =)


End file.
